


College Years

by missbloom



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2015, M/M, Sam/Sarah and Charlie/Gilda are there but hardly touched on, Sexual Content, very brief mention of rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2015-11-20
Packaged: 2018-05-02 12:49:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5248832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbloom/pseuds/missbloom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Cas are neighbors and attend the same college. It doesn't take long for them to fall in love, but it also doesn't take long for them to lose one another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginning of the First Year

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to my pinch-hit artist kuwlshadow for creating such wonderful artwork! And thank you to my beta, Cortney, for helping polishing this up ♥
> 
> Also, there are a few things that didn't italicize during copy-and-pasting, which I'll fix once I find the patience.

 

More than fifty years later, I can remember falling in love with Dean as if it happened yesterday. I’m still able to recall the way he looked, the way he smelled. His touches, his voice. His numerous freckles and his bright green eyes. Nearly everything about him is etched permanently into my memories, at least for now. I don’t ever want to forget him, no matter how painful the ending, but my age is betraying me these days; I’m afraid that if I don’t write down our story, it will eventually become lost over time. So this is it, the story of the best four years of my life, the story of how I fell in love with Dean Winchester, and the story of how I lost him.

 

The first thing I heard when I stepped out of the stuffy elevator of our apartment building was AC/DC blasting from Dean’s open apartment door. It wasn’t anything new, he’s had classic rock playing since he moved in less than a week ago. The time, though, is what caught me off guard; it was around one in the morning, why he wasn’t in bed? I guess there were a few things I still had yet to learn about the man who was in his late 20s that had greeted me on his first day here with a wink and, “Hey there, hot stuff.”

With my arms full of books, I made my way down the corridor to our doors, which were right across from each other, and I peeked into his room, “Hello--oh god!” My heart seized and all I could do was stare wide-eyed at the naked man before me, who was also frozen in shock.

He was the first to move, reaching over to turn down his music before breaking into a grin and leaning all seductively on a nearby table, “Why don’t you take a picture, sweetheart? It’ll last longer.” Oh, I definitely would take pictures, pictures that I still have today, but that exact moment wasn’t the right time for them.

My eyes flickered from his lips, admiring the cute little dimples there, to his chest and face, noticing that not all of him was naked, just the important bits. He had on a black Batman shirt with a fuzzy pink towel wrapped around his head, presumably from a shower, but of course my eyes were drawn to his completely exposed lower half.

“I’m sorry, I--” it was difficult for me to look away and turn to my door, but I managed it, fumbling in my jacket pocket for my keys. I was so flustered, my cheeks red and hot, from seeing something I shouldn’t have and liking it. Those golden hairs on his thighs and groin, curling around and framing the thing I had been trying so hard not to focus on.

Suddenly there was a thud and then shooting pain up my leg; I had dropped one of my books right onto exposed toes, my flip flops having done nothing to protect them, “God damn it.”

My ears rung at the sudden sound of Dean’s laugh, a deep rumble that vibrated through my whole body, making it warmer than it already was. At that point I realized I didn’t even know his name and I’ve already seen the most private part of his body. What a great introduction.

It seemed to take forever, but I eventually found the right key for my door and shoved it into the lock, hands shaking as I threw it open. After bending down to pick up my book, I carefully turned back to my neighbor’s apartment (with a hand half raised, ready to to shield my eyes from anything, just in case) to apologize, only to hear a, “Goodnight!” and have his door slammed shut right in my face.

 

* * *

 

“So, you like what you saw last night?” I had been afraid of this. When Dean held the elevator door open for me the next morning, I told myself to just take the stairs, but of course I didn’t listen to myself and was now paying for it. I was red in the face again, my mouth dry. “I’m Dean, by the way. Dean Winchester.”

“Castiel Novak.” I shifted on my feet, unable to offer him a hand to shake due to the laundry basket I was carrying. I gave him a nervous smile, “It’s nice to meet you.” A jolt radiated from my shoulder when Dean clapped a hand on it, which was his way of saying hello in return.

There was a mesh bag over his shoulder, almost bursting with dirty clothes. My basket, on the other hand, wasn’t even half full. Most of its contents was my brother’s old university jacket, which was now mine, draped over its side.

“No way, you go to Clarkson too?” My stomach dropped, eyes wide as I watched Dean lift the sleeve of the coat to inspect the patch. I hurriedly turned away when he looked up, my bottom lip between my teeth, “Wait... no.” I thought I had been in the clear with all this when he didn’t recognize me for the past four days. “Are... you’re that guy I caught ogling me in the student center the first day I was there, aren’t you?”

“I--”

“You are! Man,” Dean was grinning, sparkling green eyes looking up at the ceiling briefly in disbelief, “I bet you really liked what you saw last night then, huh?”

“Please.” My cracked plea finally shut him up, “That was an accident.” I readjusted the basket in my arms, relieved that I finally found my voice, “Why did you have your door open, anyway? Especially being in that state of undress?”

“Thought you were home, didn’t hear you go out,” he huffed as he dropped his bag to floor and leaned against the back wall of our ridiculously slow elevator, “We’re like the only people on our floor, so no one usually walks by at one in the freaking morning, anyway. Having the door and windows open created a nice draft for me to dry off in, and I didn’t see any risk in it, so... Besides, it’s my apartment; you’re the one that looked in.”

“But--”

“Ah ah,” his hand suddenly covered my mouth, startling me and making me recoil a bit, “You know I have every right to have my door open, but I’ll tell you what,” I made a face when he dropped his hand, wiping my mouth on my shoulder, “I’ll make sure to keep myself all tucked away if I do. Deal?”

I wasn't happy with him, thinking he was an arrogant ass as I glared over at the buttons beside the door, “Deal.” Thankfully there was a ding, the elevator telling us we’ve finally made it to the basement, and I was the first one out.

We were quiet as we loaded our laundry in the machines, me throwing all my stuff in and slamming the lid shut before inserting in my quarters. I was getting warmer just standing next to him, knowing he knew I was crushing hard. It wasn’t even seven in the morning and yet  it felt like the middle of the afternoon with how hot I was.

I glanced at Dean beside me, noticing he was sorting his things while he hummed; jeans and shirts were getting washed first, with towels being set aside and, “Gotta wash my delicates.” My mouth gaped open like a fish when he tossed a pair of navy blue, lace panties right on top of my washer. Apparently I zoned out because he snapped my fingers in front of my face, “Earth to Cas. Haven’t you seen panties before?”

“I--” of course I had, but usually they had been on girls or just by their lonesome, and this was not something I had been expecting. It never crossed my mind that they were someone else’s, I just knew they were his, and that thought was destroying me from the inside, out.

Dean gave another one of his rough laughs and I’ll be damned if it didn’t go straight between my legs. “Come on, man. You really should try it sometime. I could even let you borrow a pair if you want, maybe some bright red ones? You’d look sexy in those.”

Was this really happening? Was Dean Winchester, my new neighbor who I’ve already had the pleasure of seeing mostly naked, suggesting that I’d be sexually appealing in a pair of lace undergarments?

“It’s something else, it really is,” I blinked when he closed his washer, deposited his coins, “The feel of the fabric catching in the best way against your skin as it glides over your--”

“Dean,” my voice came out all high-pitched, needing him to shut up before I blew a load in my shorts. Thankfully I was holding my laundry basket just right so he couldn’t see my bulge, “I... I have to go. I’ll see you later or something.” And I was gone, fleeing up the stairs as fast as possible.

 

* * *

 

A few hours after I’d calmed down, I decided it was a good time to head back to the basement and transfer my clothes to the dryer. A gush of hot, humid air greeted me when I opened my apartment door, as did a little black bag sitting upon my mat. “What...?” It felt almost empty when I picked it up, which made me tilt my head and squint curiously. The tag read, "To Cas, from Dean. You can keep them ;)" Instantly I knew what was in the bag; peeking inside, I swallowed thickly at the red, lace panties that even had a little bow on the front.

Cheeks pink, I took a half step back into my apartment and set the gift on the table, promising myself I'd try them on another time.

I didn't run across Dean on my trip downstairs, thank god, not knowing what I'd do or say to him. "Oh, hey, thanks for the underwear that you know I'm going to get off in at some point. I appreciate it!" No, I'd clam up like I always did before bustling off and locking myself in my apartment to study, distract myself as much as possible.

Music was still coming from Dean’s apartment when I returned upstairs; Queen, if I remember correctly. I hummed the song to myself as I went back into my own place and put a chicken roast in the oven before sitting down to study until my clothes were dry.

 

* * *

 

Around six thirty that evening was when the heat finally broke and it started to cool off outside. I opened my windows and front door to let the stale, mechanically cooled air from my air conditioner be replaced with a slightly warmer, but more refreshing, breeze.

I was in my bedroom now, folding my clothes, that black bag sitting atop my dresser. It seemed to be teasing me, “Put me on, put me on...” And I was just about ready to when I was interrupted by a knock at my front door.

“I smell chicken,” it was Dean, leaning against the frame with his nose in the air, “A roast, to be specific, with carrots and onions.”

“You could smell that from your apartment?”

“Had my door open too, that breeze feels so damn good.” There was just enough space in front of me for him to squeeze through to enter my apartment; he looked around, nodding, “Nice place you’ve got here, very... neat.” He made a motion with his hands when he said that, like he wasn’t used to things being where they were supposed to.

“Are you inviting yourself over for dinner?” I didn’t mind, calm now after a few hours of being by myself.

“Sure, if you’re okay with it?”

I nodded and gestured for him to take a seat anywhere he’d like, “Please, sit. Do you want anything to drink?”

He sat with a huff, arms across the back of the couch, before giving a relaxed sigh, “Beer?”

“I have wine, if that’s okay.”

“That’ll do. Thanks, babe,” he knew what he was doing by then, chuckling quietly to himself as I hurried out of the living room with a roll of my eyes.

Once I returned with our beverages, we slipped into a easy conversation about the simple stuff, the sort of things you’d talk about with almost any person no matter how well you knew them. It seemed like no time at all until dinner was ready, the two of us heading out into the kitchen, “You need any help, Cassy?”

The nickname caught me off guard, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it, “Um... sure. Plates are in the cabinet there, silverware in the drawer below.” The two of us moved smoothly about the narrow kitchen, Dean setting the table while I served the chicken and its side dishes.

Once we were sat, our wine glasses refilled, Dean held his up in a toast, “To our shitty apartment building; here’s to it not collapsing.” His little speech made me smirk, the truth in his words were all too real, “I swear to god, Cas, one of these days that elevator is just going to give out, it rattles and shakes so damn much.”

“It’s been like that since I moved in, which was about a year ago. That’s why most people take the stairs, they don’t want to be the unlucky ones inside it when it finally snaps.”

Dean nodded in understanding, stuffing his mouth with chicken and green beans, then tried to talk, “So, how ‘bout them panties? You try them on yet?”

I had been taking a sip of my wine and promptly snorted and spat most of it back into my glass, shaking my head, “N-no, I haven’t. They’re on my dresser.”

“Oh.”

“I will though, don’t sound so disappointed.”

That brightened him up, nudging my foot with his under the table, “You gonna let me see?”

A loud clank as my fork fell to my plate, “Dean Winchester.”

“What! Just a question...”

“I don’t... We’re practically strangers still, you and I.”

“Oh, come on, Cas. Strangers don’t give lingerie as gifts,” he was like a chipmunk, stuffing more food into his cheeks. “We both know--”

Quickly, I reached over and held his jaw shut, demanding in the most polite way, “Swallow your damn food before talking, please.”

He did without hesitation then picked right back up where he had left off, “We both know that there’s something going on here with us. I can feel it.” I watched his fork as he swung it back and forth between us, “A... spark, or something. Please tell me I’m not alone in feeling this.”

Realizing I forgot the salt and pepper, I sighed and stood to retrieve them, “No, you’re not alone. I just think it’s too soon to be acting on any feelings is all.”

Dean was right in the middle of his enthusiastic reply with the ground shifted beneath us, knocking me onto my ass and tossing Dean onto the floor. Shattering and bangs were heard as things fell over, the lights going out and sending the room into an orange glow from the sunset outside. Just a few seconds after things stilled, the city’s earthquake siren wailed from a few blocks down the road.

Flashback to 5th grade. My class was in the gymnasium playing dodgeball when the building violently shook and the roof fell in, injuring almost every child and unfortunately taking one’s life. That had been the only major earthquake I had been in, until now, at least, so I didn’t know of any other way to react.

“Cas?” Dean’s broken voice was laced with concern, but I didn’t reply, didn’t even hear him, “Cas, you okay?”

Like a wave, all those feelings I had felt in that earthquake back in middle school washed over me, all that panic and fright. I give a small wail and started crying, covering my head with my arms to try to protect myself even though there was no real danger.

At the time, I didn’t even comprehend Dean coming over to scoop me up and take me into my room, into the closet near the center of the building where the structure was most sound. He kept me close, whispering words of reassurance and covering us up with all the blankets he could find, building us a nest despite the warmer temperatures, “It’s gonna be okay, Cas. I’m here, you’re gonna be okay.”

My heart was hammering, my breathing fast. I was having a panic attack, both of my hands shaking uncontrollably along with the rest of my body while I gripped tightly to Dean’s shirt.

“Hey,” Dean’s thumb was rough against my cheek, wiping away my tears, “Our building has that evacuation alarm, right? Well, it’s not going off, so it must not be all that bad.”

I latched on to his voice and his touch like an anchor and after a few minutes I realized he was right, I was overreacting. “I-I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize. It’s okay for you to be freaked out, but just try to calm down, okay? I’m here. I’ll keep you safe.”

Just hearing him say that settled my nerves more than anything, my body easing from heavy shakes to light trembles. I allowed myself to open my eyes and look over his face, noticing the freckles that were still visible even in the fading light from outside.

“Do you want me to stay here with you for the night until the aftershocks are done? I’ll help you clean up in the morning.”

A nod from me, that plan sounding perfect, “P-please.”

“Alright,” his lips pressed softly against my forehead, “It’s okay, blue eyes, you’re okay...”

I remember Dean rubbing up and down my back, holding me to him as we waited this out. The aftershocks weren’t so bad, not with him there, and we thankfully never had to evacuate. The two of us even fell asleep in our pile of blankets in the closet, forgetting about our interrupted meal, and not waking until the morning sun was shining on our faces.

Whenever I get worked up, I can still hear Dean talking me through it like he did back then, knowing just what to say to calm me down, and I will be forever thankful of him for that.

From that day out, him and I would be almost inseparable as we worked through the ups and downs of our college years together, going on many adventures, and simply enjoying life.


	2. Middle of the First Year

Shorts and tank tops, or even no shirts at all, were our norm once summer set in. Dean and I had become good friends in just a few weeks time, but we were still dancing around each other in the relationship department. It seemed like neither of us wanted to take the first step, possibly afraid of what would or would not happen between us.

We fell into the habit of having regular study sessions, Dean and I, enjoying the company and conversation while also getting help with schoolwork. There was one particular session, though, that sticks out to me...

 

The two of us were in his living room, air conditioning on high and the rotating fans going full speed. I was on his couch with a book in my lap, feet propped up on the coffee table, and a cherry push pop in my hand.

Dean was lying on his stomach on the floor, legs bent up and ankles crossed. Every now and then I would look over at him, watching as he flipped through his Modern History book while he lapped and sucked on one of those oversized lollipops, purposefully making the most ridiculous of noises. “Dean, please. You’re distracting me.”

I rolled my eyes when he arched a brow and smirked, slamming his book shut, “Am I now? And why is that, Cas?”

“You know why. You know I need almost absolute silence to study,” he pointed to the rattling fans around us so I countered with, “White noise, doesn’t bother me. Your slurping does, though.”

That just made him smirk and shake his head, “You can’t take a hint, can you?” He pushed himself up onto his knees with a small grunt, fixing his tank that had rode up a little to expose his belly button and happy trail, “We need a break anyway.”

I squinted and set my book aside before standing up to stretch, a practically obscene groan coming from me, although I didn’t quite notice it. My hands went to my hips when I was done, and I noticed the blush that had appeared on his cheeks, “What do you mean, take a hint?”

Dean began to shuffle towards me on his knees, pushing me back onto the couch when he got close enough. He weaseled his way between my legs, which just made me furrow my brows and squint harder, “What the hell are you doing?”

His hands rested on the sides of my thighs, my own hands settling naturally onto his forearms, “I think it’s about time I give you a blowjob, don’t you think?”

“What?!” I was startled, trying to snap my legs together but he was in the way, “No!” The expression on his face is what surprised me the most though; he had looked so excited but now his pouting tugged at my heart, “I mean, you can, but...” an uneasy laugh, then in a quieter voice, “we haven’t even kissed yet.”

Like an overjoyed puppy, his smile sprang back to life and then we were kissing. His hands moved up to my sides, tingles crawling along my spine and making me giggle. I mumbled against his lips, “You taste like candy,” while reaching up with one hand to run my fingers through his hair as the tentative press of our lips turned to full-on making out.

The feel of his hands slipping under my shirt, rough skin running over mine, made my breath hitch. His voice was thick as he kissed his way down my neck, “Sorry, I can’t help myself... ‘ve been thinking about doing this for a while.”

I tilted my head to give him room, “...Really?” Of course I’ve been having those kinds of thoughts about him too, but just hearing him say that made me warm all over, well, even warmer than I already was, “So have I.”

That made him smile as he leaned back, “May I?” His hands now hovered over the buttons of my shorts and when I nodded, he about ripped them right off, “Slow! Slow, Dean, my goodness. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”

He opened his mouth to speak but froze, eyes bulging, and I asked, “What, what is it?” My stomach flipped when I looked down and saw red lace peeking out; I had forgotten that of all days, I chose that day to try the panties on. Going slower now, Dean worked me out of my pants, his eyes never leaving my crotch. I watched his face intently, trying to judge his reaction, “I hope they look alright...”

“Cas... holy shit...” he stared for a few seconds more before stretching up to kiss my lips, softer this time. It was literally breathtaking, a sort of wheezing noise coming from me when he pulled away, “You’re so gorgeous, baby.” He had a hand on my neck, smiling up at me, while his other hand found my hip, thumb hovering a moment before gently rubbing up my length over the lace.

The explosion of feeling that was sent up my body just from the most miniscule of touches pushed a moan right out of me, my head falling back onto the couch with my eyes closed. I could hear Dean chuckling, which made me twitch, and I could feel his hand that was previously on my neck slowly glide down my chest to rest on my other hip. And then he did it again, that little stroke, and I couldn’t help but buck up into it and moan his name, “Dean...”

“Told you it felt good...” he was doing it consistently now, his other hand holding my hips down while I grew to my full hardness under his touch, “And I’m gonna make you feel even better.”

“P-please...”

“It’s okay, I’m here. I gotcha.” His thumbs hooked under the lace, pulling it about halfway down so I poked out some. While he continued to stroke the underside with his thumb, he kissed the tip before taking it in his mouth, tongue swirling.

“Dean! F-fuck!” A grimace of pleasure swept over my face as I tried my hardest to thrust upwards, but he was strong and held me down, going right to town on me.

It was like I had completely lost sense of time and space, only focusing on Dean and what he was doing, so it wasn’t long until my fingers started to dig into his shoulder, my noises growing louder, “Dean, I... I’m--!” My orgasm seemed to suck all the air out of me, but it was one of the greatest things I had ever felt. He didn’t really have time to pull off of me but he eagerly took it all nonetheless, humming around me like he knew exactly what made me crumble. His hands rubbed soothingly up my sides, helping me through what was left of my orgasm, “Oh... oh my god...”

My body was buzzing, head foggy as he removed himself, planting gentle kisses to my thighs. He climbed up on the couch beside me and helped me get tucked back into my panties before he kissed me again, soft and caring. I felt a little embarrassed for finishing so soon, but I hadn’t really been surprised and I didn’t think he was either. “Dean...”

“Yeah?” He was keeping his distance because of the heat, a fine sheen over my whole body now, but I didn’t care; I pressed close to him, pushing him back so we could lie on the couch and let the fans blow over us, cooling us down. His fingers ran through my hair and I could feel him kiss the top of my head, “You can return the favor some other time, okay?”

I nodded, my breathing taking its time to return to normal. He trailed his fingers up my back again which caused me to melt right into him; with my mind hazy from release and the summer heat enveloping us, it didn’t take me long at all to fall asleep, resting right there with my cheek smooshed against his chest.

 

* * *

 

_Plink.... plink... plink..._

Dean was the first one to comment, “I’m going to go rip those paddles out of their hands and throw them out the window.” The two of us were studying in the student center, which had ping pong tables and other games for the students to use, “Some people are trying to read.”

“They have as much right to be here as you do, Dean. Leave them be.” I had gotten used to the noise, actually finding it odd when the plunking didn’t echo around the high-ceilinged room.

He just grumbled and pulled his book closer, running his fingers underneath the printed words to help him concentrate. I couldn’t help but smile at the focused look upon his face, his brows all scrunched together and his lips mouthing the words as his eyes scanned them.

After a few moments I closed my book and leaned over to set my head against his shoulder, a hand resting absently atop his thigh, “Have you decided on an area of study yet?” I knew he had been struggling to figure something out for a while now, wanting to do something he actually cared about and was interested in. Doing something just for money or rank wasn’t appealing to him at all.

“Nope,” a sigh, readjusting to put his arm around me, “How about you, young one?” He’d started calling me that after he found out I was six years younger than him, which actually wasn’t that much, but I enjoyed all the pet names that he came up with for me.

But regarding my career and schooling path, I had been on the fence myself, a large majority of fields having caught my eye, “I think I’ve finally settled on majoring in environmental studies and minoring in biology,” a pause, then a repeated, and hesitant, “I think.”

He nodded with an impressed look, “Well, I can see you doing both of those and succeeding, especially if you can connect them.” That was one thing I absolutely loved about Dean, how he was genuinely interested in what I wanted to do and what I was good at, wanting to support me 110% of the way.

“Thank you. Now,” I reached over to grab the college information pack I kept with my books, “if only we could find something for you to do.” For what felt like the millionth time just this week, we went over all the available courses and programs and discussed the pros and cons of each and how he would feel about doing them. But, just as before, nothing particularly stuck out.

“Maybe I should just do general, Cas. Make myself ‘well-rounded’. I can always come back if I decide on something specific.” We always ended there, so it was obvious that was going to be the most reasonable route for his schooling at that moment.

I nodded and put the pamphlet aside, returning my head to his shoulder while he started to pet through my hair, “We can stop in the registration office tomorrow, let them know we’ve decided. I just hope they don’t force you to pick something.” He hummed in response and set his own head against mine, the two of us relaxing there while listening and watching the hustle and bustle of the other students.

Apparently I had drifted off some, blinking my eyes open when the kids that had been playing ping pong now stood before us, asking if we wanted to join. Dean was all down for it, “Sure!” as was I, even though I was a little sleep hazy. He chuckled as we stood and made our way over to the tables hand in hand.

It took us both a few rounds to get in the swing of it, but soon enough Dean was slaying them, hitting the ball so hard that he dented a few of them, which they didn’t like all too much. After Dean and I won a whooping 15-5, our group decided to call it a day, since a few of the others had classes to get to.

“Hey, great game, guys,” Charlie, one of the girls on the other team that had very red hair and a lively personality to match, came over to shake our hands, “We’re definitely going to have to play again sometime.”

“Of course, haven’t had that much fun in a while, with all the studying we’ve been doing,” Dean took my hand again and bumped my shoulder, smiling knowingly. I just blushed and looked at the floor.

“Same here. But yeah... um, until then, why don’t you guys come hang out at our GSA club? There’s not many of us, so the more, the merrier.” Looking back up then, I noticed Charlie was cheerful and enthusiastic about her offer, but also somewhat nervous.

The club peaked my interest though, the idea of hanging out with Dean and others like us in a completely judge- and stare-free zone sounded nice; him and I exchanged glances and nodded simultaneously, Dean answering for us, “We’d love to. That sounds great, actually.”

“Awesome!” Nervousness vanishing, Charlie stepped forward and gave us a double hug, “The meeting times are up on the school’s website, in the club’s section. I’ll see you guys then!”

 

* * *

 

There weren’t a whole lot of people at the GSA meeting we went to, and most of them Dean and I didn’t know, save for Charlie and her friends. Refreshments and snacks were set out, the meeting more of a social gathering than anything.

At this particular meeting, they were trying to plan a fundraiser, hoping that with the money raised the school would allow them to buy a plaque for a bench outside, or at least something for the group to mark on campus like most of the other clubs were able to do.

I was surprised by how well Dean made sure his voice was heard during the discussion, taking somewhat of a leader role with it all, but also making sure not to overstep Charlie, who was the club’s president. Dean was focused on helping her get everyone involved so it was more of a unanimous, collective project.

We ended up settling on two fundraising ideas to do at the same time; a car wash and a bake sale. Eat cookies while your car is getting cleaned, all for a small fee. Thankfully everyone was excited for this, all order in the room dissolving as people burst into discussion about the details.

 

* * *

 

The car wash/bake sale was a huge success.

Dean and I made dozens of cute little personal pies the night before, about the size of cupcakes, and had way too much fun doing it. Let’s just say, by the end of the night both of us had splotches of flour all over us, especially me with a white hand print on my ass. I made sure to get him back though by booping some of the cherry filling onto his nose.

Thankfully it wasn’t too hot the next day, maybe mid-70s, so we weren’t dying in the heat, but then again whatever water got on us felt refreshing. And boy, did a lot of water get on us.

Setting up in the empty lot across from the school, Charlie and a few others manned the goodie table while the rest of us washed the cars. We were surprisingly busy, too, so we were hardly ever standing around.

Near the end of the day when things were finally starting to slow down, Dean of course had to liven things up by starting to goof off, spraying me, then the others, with the hose. Then began an all out battle, water- and soap-soaked sponges and rags being chucked at one another, wax getting smeared all over us. We were all exhausted by the time we decided to pack things up, but we were happy.

Crowded around the snack table as Charlie counted the money, we ate what food we had left over while sipping on some beer that one of the guys went and bought, all chatting and relaxing after a long day.

“Oh my god,” we all went quiet, looking up at Charlie who had just finished totalling up our earnings. “Guys,” her expression was serious as well as disbelief, “We broke a thousand.” A ripple of shock went through us all; that was way more than we were expecting. Someone asked if she was sure, so she counted aloud for us all to hear, right down to the dollar bills, “...nine hundred ninety eight, nine hundred ninety nine, one thousand,” then the coins, “and three dollars and fifty two cents.”

We were all quiet. It was obvious that we were all thinking, “How??” But it didn’t take long for someone to give a small laugh, “We broke one thousand.” It was liked something clicked then, all of us jumping up and breaking into cheers, our fundraiser having exceeded its goal by nearly four hundred dollars.

But the college still wouldn’t let us buy a dedication.

“Why?!” Charlie was furious, as were the other three of us that joined her when she went to the main office, “We have more than enough money to pay for it. Hell, we’ll even fund a brand new bench or tree or whatever, not just the plaque.”

“I-I’m sorry,” the secretary was clearly nervous, repeatedly glancing at closed door of the campus’ head director, “The board has been presented with similar requests from your club in previous years, b-but we just don’t believe that a dedication to your club would be suitable for our campus.”

I didn’t blame Charlie for her rude, but honest, reply of, “What the fuck?” All of us were fuming, yet glad she was brave enough to speak what was on all of our minds. “Literally every single club on campus that has more than 20 members and has raised the appropriate funds has received a dedication,” she was leaning against the secretary’s desk now, “the Gay-Straight Alliance has exceeded those minimum requirements drastically, but you still won’t give us the dedication?” The secretary shook her head, hands trembling as she pushed up her glasses. Charlie kept going, “That’s bull shit, and blatantly clear discrimination.”

Neither Dean and I were surprised to hear a few weeks later that Charlie and a handful of others dropped out of the college and filed a lawsuit against them, and we again weren’t surprised when the college agreed to settle and give the GSA the dedication they beyond earned.

After Charlie left, Dean became president of the club for the remainder for the year, so he was there representing it when they held the small ceremony for our new bench and tree just beside the main courtyard. Pride was clear in his countenance, as it was on all of us members and supporters that were there. Dean gave a few words, along with the college’s president, about how this dedication was a step to acceptance and understanding of what our club stood for, and that they hoped it would open the eyes of some of the more conservative people to show them that we were in fact just like everyone else.

That tree that they planted, a young maple, ended up becoming Dean and I’s “spot” for the remainder of our time at the college, the place where we went frequently to study and just relax when our apartments were too warm, or to listen to music and work on projects.

It was only fitting that the tree died three years later.


	3. Summer of the First Year

All Dean and I did our first summer together was relax and have fun, build our relationship, and get to know each other. I remember him telling me it had been one of the best summers he has ever had, and it had all been thanks to me...

 

House parties had never appealed to me, but yet there we were, Dean dragging me through an overcrowded living room that smelled like alcohol, B.O., and weed.

“Dean! Why are we doing this?” He didn’t hear me. It felt like the whole room was vibrating in rhythm with the music that was way too loud, my ears ringing terribly.

We hadn’t even been there for three minutes and I already wanted to leave, but Dean had other plans. I let him pull me into the kitchen, which was a bit less overwhelming but not by much, so he could raid the place for whatever drinks he could find.

“I don’t like this,” it felt like I was going to get swept away in all the people when he let go of my hand to pour us some tequila shots, so I pressed close to him, the solidity and warmth of his body keeping me momentarily calm, “I want to go home.”

“It’s a little too much, isn’t it?”

“Just a tad!” I pressed closer at the brush of strangers against me, weaseling my way between him and the counter. All Dean did was smile and kiss my lips before leading us outside, drinks in hand.

The night air was hot but thankfully much less suffocating than the smog that was inside, and I relaxed as I took a lungful. “Here, babe,” I blinked at the shot glass Dean held in front of my face, not really wanting it but... “It’ll make you feel better.”

“Are you trying to get me drunk?”

“No! God no, I just want to help you relax is all. House parties can be fun! You just... have to loosen up a little bit. But please,” a kiss to my cheek, “don’t feel pressured. We can go if you want to.”

After a few seconds of contemplation, and observation of all the others that really did seem like they were having a good time, I grabbed the shot and downed it in one gulp (so much for ignoring peer pressure) before nearly hacking it back up.

“Cas! Careful,” Dean’s rubbing of my back didn’t really help me, my throat on fire, “I’m sorry, I should have warned you, it’s pretty strong.”

“You think?!” My eyes were too watery for me to see him down his own shot with ease, but it’s not like I was paying attention to that anyway, “Can... a water?”

“Sure, I’ll be right back.”

Trying to fight the pain, I sat on the swing with my elbows on my knees and my head tucked down, wondering how the hell anyone liked that shit. My throat felt raw and was still burning. I had never been one for hard liquor, and now this experience just set it in stone, or so I thought.

It wasn’t long for Dean to come back with a water bottle for me and some sort of drink for him. I took a few swallows of mine before asking, “Are you going to get drunk?”

“Maybe,” he hooked his arm around me, letting me rest against his side, “Do you want me to?” I only shrugged, honestly not really caring. I thought that maybe him getting wasted would help me have a nicer time, but it also turn sour very easily and ruin the night completely for the both of us.

He shrugged before gulping half his glass in one go, only grimacing just the slightest, “You don’t have to, but do you wanna try some of this, Cas? It’s not as strong as the tequila.” Now that I look back, I realize I shouldn’t have taken that drink, or any of the others he offered me during the remainder of the party, because to this day the only thing I remember clearly about the rest of that night is that Dean and I made out in the hot tub, drunk off our asses, while only wearing our boxers. I have no clue how it progressed to that, or how we got home, but we did, and boy, did we regret it the next day.

 

* * *

 

Thankfully it was Dean’s bed, instead of some stranger’s, that we woke up butt naked in, but that was about the only good aspect of our morning. Grumbling and groggy, we burrowed against each other and communicated in various groans and noises, somehow getting across that we were both hungover and felt like complete shit.

It took us a little while longer to figure out that we had had sex.

The used condom in the bathroom garbage is what gave it away, along with the scratch marks up and down my back that I caught glimpse of in the mirror.

At first, all I could do was stand there with my mouth hanging open, one arm craned under the other so I could run my fingers along the angry red lines. When I found my voice, I called out for him to join me in the bathroom to inspect things further.

“Did... did we...?” I could feel his hands shaking some as they ghosted the marks on my back, “Oh my god.”

Of course neither of us remembered a single thing about it, my stomach twisting and turning at the thought of our first time together having been wasted, lost in a drunken haze, “I...” I couldn’t help that I was getting emotional, my hands moving to cover my mouth as tears formed in my eyes, “It... it wasn’t supposed...”

“Cas? Hey,” my skin seemed to burn when he touched it, but the look on his face when I stepped back hurt even more, “Please, we... we can do it again, okay? When we’re both sober? It’ll be like this never even happened.”

All I could do was shake my head, my chin starting to wobble. He knew how I felt about what I wanted our first time to be like, sweet and tender and loving, and at the right time. The complete opposite of this.

“Just forget it, Cas! Forget the past 12 hours, it’s not like we can remember it anyway!”

“I-I can’t, you know I can’t just--” my voice was a whine, tears now falling, “I’m always going to know that it’s not... that we’ve practically raped each other and we’ve already...” I found the wall behind me and slid down it to sit on the floor, legs pulled against my chest and my hands over my face as I cried.

The tension in the air was thick, Dean leaving the bathroom to go make some coffee or something, I don’t remember. I ended up heading back to my apartment and staying there by myself for the next few days, only deciding to go visit Dean again once I realized his music hadn’t been blaring like usual, concern being my main motivation.

I didn’t even give him time to open the door all the way before I was hugging him, apologizing for overreacting and shutting him out. I could feel his hands loose on my sides, but he wasn’t really hugging me back. Then I smelled the alcohol. “Dean...?”

“I’m sorry, Cas...” he was completely out of it, eyes glazed over, “I ruined it, I got us drunk and I let us have sex even though I knew better and I ruined all of it...”

“No, no no, hey,” I moved us over to his couch, sat us down. There were countless bottles strewn across his coffee table and floor, “Don’t you dare blame this all on you, Dean Winchester. Don’t you dare.”

All he did was hiccup, leaning heavily against me. “I’m sorry...” Until he was sober and we could talk about this properly, the only thing I could do right now was let him use me as a pillow.

Lowering himself so his head was on my thighs, he snuggled right into my lap, face buried in my tummy. His hair felt greasy and unwashed as I ran my fingers through it, he probably hadn’t showered at all the few days I had been away.

Dean's slurred voice pulled me out of my thoughts, “Cas?” He swallowed, nuzzling my hip, “Cassy, can I tell you somethin’?”

“Of course, sweetheart. You can tell me anything.”

A few seconds pause, then quietly, “...I love you.”

I didn’t really know what I had been expecting him to say, but it wasn’t that. Part of me thought that it was just the alcohol talking, but he went on like he could read my thoughts, “I truly do, Cas. Ask me again when I’m sober, I’ll say the same thing.”

So I did. That night when we were laying in my bed after hours of endless talking and conversation about nothing in particular, I asked him hesitantly and without warning, “Are you in love with me?”

His head had been tucked under my chin, but he lifted it now to look at me, studying my face with a curious expression before nodding, “I am, yes. I love you, Cas, more than I’ll ever be able to express with any combination of words or any sort of gift or gesture.”

“...why?” My question surprised us both, but I really was wondering why of all people he had chosen me to fall in love with.

Now he squirmed, broke eye contact, “I don’t know, I just do. Lots of things make me love you.” It was clear that putting him on the spot like that made him uncomfortable, so I dropped any other questions about it and pulled him close again.

It didn’t take us long after that to become sleepy, our breathing deep and our minds fogged. Ever so gently, I nuzzled into Dean’s hair and said in the quietest voice that I knew he could hear, “I think I’m in love with you too.”

 

* * *

 

Around the middle of summer is when I discovered the roof was a great place to sunbathe.

Almost every Wednesday, weather permitting, I would head up there with a towel, a book, and my iPod, strip down to my birthday suit, and lay there for a half hour or so, relaxing. No one else ever came up, and there were no other buildings close enough for anyone to peek.

Dean never once joined me, preferring to have some alone time and stay inside, do some of his weekly chores with me out of the way.

One time before I headed up, Dean presented me with heart sticker about the size of my palm. “What’s this?”

He decided to show me rather than tell me, kneeling behind me and yanking down my shorts without warning (“Hey!”) and smacking the sticker right on my ass. It was clear what the sticker was for now, to leave a heart-shaped mark of untanned skin on my behind.

I blushed and gave him a kiss, “You’re silly,” before heading on up to the roof.

The sticker worked, a pale heart appearing on my butt whenever I tanned, and Dean loved it.

When we had our clothes off, whether it was for sexy times or just a shower, he had his hand right there, cupping my cheek. It was a little odd at first, but I grew to like it, eventually finding the gesture extremely sweet. “I have your heart in my hand,” he’d say, the double meaning making us both smile lovingly.

So that was a little game we enjoyed that summer, picking out stickers for me to wear while tanning. They were entertaining for a few weeks, like the stars over my nipples or the flowers scattered all over my body, but we let most of them fade out, save for the heart. That one we always kept up until it became too cool to tan anymore, both of us somehow feeling a stronger connection whenever it was brushed over or cupped.

For years after Dean left, I had contemplated getting a heart tattooed there but tattoos weren’t really something that appealed to me, at least not on my own body. Besides, I didn’t have the confidence to have a stranger stabbing at my ass with an ink-filled needle, so the memory and feelings associated with remembering the heart and our love would have to be sufficient, which it most definitely was. 

 

* * *

 

The last day before school started is when Dean and I finally had sex. Proper sex, sober and mutually consensual. The scratch marks along my back had long since healed, and both of us had kind of just shoved that unpleasant night away into the deep recesses of our memories.

It happened in the morning, our usual half-asleep snuggling turning into a light makeout session. I was planting kisses upon the scratchy edges of Dean’s jaw, gasping when his hand settled upon my hip, fingers just barely dipping under the waistband of my boxers. His voice was still laced with sleep, “Can we, Cas? Please?”

I was wide awake and doe-eyed now, but nodding nonetheless. Sure, we had gotten each other off numerous times since “the incident,” but nothing more. This time would be different though.

Taking his time, Dean started with kisses and slowly worked his way on top of me, asking me again and again if every little touch was okay, “If you go any slower, Dean, I’ll fall asleep.” That made him laugh and quicken the pace enough to sate us both, our pajamas falling to the floor and our bodies heating up.

“Do you want to use a condom?” He had found one in the bedside table and held it in his hand, waiting patiently with blown eyes.

“I’m clean, so I’m fine without one, as long as you’re clean too.”

“I am.” It didn’t take him long to toss the package aside and get back to business.

Knowing what was going to happen this time made every one of his touches seem new to me, my breath quickly turning ragged and my arousal becoming painfully clear, “P-please...”

We’ve talked about what both of us had experienced before, so he knew that I’ve never received, “Gonna have to prep you, Cas.” It was the best kind of torture I’ve ever felt, his fingers getting me squirming and panting, begging and begging for all of him. “Fine, fine, damn. Make sure to let me know if it hurts though, okay?” I just nodded and pulled him in for a kiss.

The noise that came out of me when he finally pushed inside was louder than I’ve ever been, my mind swarming with pleasure, “More, oh god...” He took his time, which was good, little prickles of pain making me grimace every now and then, but soon he was all the way in, “So good, feels so good... so full...”

He kept still for a few agonizing minutes to let me adjust, planting kisses on my neck while he put a hand between our hips, running a teasing finger up and down the underside of my cock just to keep me palpable.

When he finally started thrusting, I was in heaven. My hands clutched onto his shoulders, my mouth open with little noises falling out, noises that only grew as he sped up.

Soon he started grunting too, “So fucking perfect,” sitting up to grab onto my hips and really slam into me, which made me whine in the best way.

I was starting to come undone, gasping and clawing and pleading with him for more before I finally snapped, letting out a scream that broke half way though, white spurting onto my stomach. Numb to anything but pleasure, I lied there with a grin on my face as he kept rocking into me, grunting about how he was going to fill me up and “make you mine.” The feeling of him finally releasing inside me sent me over the moon even more than I already was, my hands sliding up and down his arms as he worked himself through it, “I love you...”

He whined back, “I love you too,” before scooping me up and turning us onto our sides, the position nearly impossible with him still inside, but I didn’t mind. We took our time coming down from our highs, separating ourselves, utterly and completely thrilled with the experience, and so fucking in love.


	4. Middle of the Second Year

Our second year in school was, for the most part, much more enjoyable. We had each other, we had friends, we were comfortable. The college wasn’t a maze for either of us anymore, and we knew most of the instructors quite well to feel at ease. The only thing that was tougher were the classes, which we knew were only going to increase in difficulty the next two years as well, but with a little adjusting, we were able to manage. I guess you could call this year our “honeymoon” stage, since this was the happiest year overall of all four years we were together, and since we never actually got to go on a real honeymoon...

 

The first half of the school year went by without a hitch. We passed our classes with As and Bs, our social lives were at their peaks, Christmas was amazing, and our love was blooming.

Until midterms of the next semester.

The college had enacted new guidelines over winter break for tests and exams in relation to their overall weight in passing or failing the class, so anyone who earned below a 75 on 2 or more tests was going to be in for a tough time.

Like Dean.

Of course I blamed myself for it, having been a huge distraction for him. I tried to help though, studying with him or keeping us separated for a few hours so he could get some homework done, but nothing really seemed to be working. It’s not like he wasn’t smart or didn’t know the material or anything, he was actually one of the smartest persons I knew, but he just didn’t seem to have the motivation.

The toll the stress was taking on him was obvious; he was more tired, quieter than normal, drinking more heavily, and even lost a little bit of weight. Many times I’d notice him zone out while we did everyday things, a grumpy look of worry etched into his features.

Soon, though, I came to a conclusion that the extra work was harming more than helping, so one day I declared we take a break, head out and do some errands and maybe a few other things. Dean protested at first, “Cas, I need to get these formulas down,” but after a little persuasion, we headed off to the grocery store.

As we pushed our cart through the aisles, me doing a bunch of little things to make him laugh, like pointing out the inappropriately shaped fruits and vegetables or talking to the lobsters in the tank, Dean started to relax. We grabbed a couple of doughnuts when we were done, putting our bags in the back of his car before heading to the park next door to sit and enjoy our snacks.

Quiet as we munched, Dean and I sat and watched the birds and squirrels, one of the later coming over to investigate us and what we had. I cooed to it, “Hello there, Mr. Squirrel.”

Dean chuckled as I tore off a piece of my doughnut to give it, the little creature bounding forward to take it right out of my hand, “Ooh, friendly.” So friendly that it wanted more doughnut and actually started to climb Dean’s leg, until Dean freaked out, that is.

I couldn’t help but laugh at the noise Dean made, the poor squirrel getting tossed to the side before scurrying away and up a tree, making angry noises at us for the rest of the time we sat there. Dean shivered, “I can still feel his little squirrel claws on me.” He was smiling though, cheeks tinted pink with embarrassment.

We walked around the park for a little while longer before heading home, remembering that some of the things we had bought needed to be refrigerated. We chatted as we sorted out the food between us, grabbing some lunch in the process, but Dean went right back to studying as soon as we were done. I reluctantly let him, retreating back to my own apartment to take a shower and do some housework.

Nearly and hour later Dean was over, excitement upon his face, “Ask me these practice questions, Cas. I haven’t looked at them yet.” So I did, and he knew the answer to every single one. “Fuck yeah!” It seemed like our little outing had worked, “I’m going to ace these midterms!”

And he did, barely.

“I’m so proud of you, Dean...” We sat in his tub the night after our tests, him resting atop me and with my arms draped over his shoulders to rest upon his chest. Hot water filled with bubbles surrounded us, as did candles along the edges of the tub, “You worked hard.”

“Thanks, babe,” he nuzzled my cheek with the side of his head, “Wouldn’t’ve been able to do it without you.”

The praise filled me with a warm feeling and I gave him a kiss before telling him the big surprise I had been waiting all day to break to him, “By the way, we’re going to see your brother for spring break.”

It was like I could hear the seconds ticking by before he answered, “.......what?”

"You heard me. I bought the tickets a few months ago, actually. We leave Saturday evening and we’re staying with Sam for the whole week.”

“No!” The water sloshed around as he flipped himself over so we were face to face, him kneeling over me, “Cas, you’re joking. Sam lives clear across the country.”

I laughed, reaching up to pet the side of his head, “I know. I remember you telling me how you haven’t seen him in so long because neither of you could afford to travel, so... surprise!”

He sat atop me in a state of bewilderment for I don’t know how long before wrapping me in a tight hug, telling me over and over again how much he loved me. Suddenly, though, he froze and looked me dead in the eye, “Cas, I...”

It took me a minute to figure out what he was getting at, but then I remembered: Dean was scared of flying. I ran my hands up and down his back and smiled, “You’ll be fine. I’ll be with you, and you can take something to knock you out if you want.” I managed to calm him down enough to be able to set the worry aside for now, thankfully.

I was glad he was happy, a part of me afraid that he wouldn’t want to go, him and his brother having parted on rough terms the last time they saw each other. But Dean had talked about missing him, and after a little sneaky emailing to Sam, who said he had actually missed Dean too, we set the trip up, and now it was just a few days before we were going.

  

* * *

 

The flight to Sam’s was long, Dean fretting about every little bump or noise the plane made the whole way there, but we arrived in one piece.

Sam picked us up at the airport, the brothers reuniting with a long, tight hug, before I was properly introduced. “Sam, this is my boyfriend, Cas. Cas, this is Sammy, my little brother.”

“Hi, it’s nice to finally meet you.” I wasn’t as nervous now that we were actually face to face, but my stomach still tickled with hopes that I would be good enough for him.

“It’s nice to meet you too. You look different than in the pictures Dean’s sent me.”

“He’s sent pictures? I thought you hadn’t been talking...” I rose a brow and glanced at Dean, who was giving Sam a death glare.

“Apparently I wasn’t supposed to tell you, but yeah, he sent me an email a few weeks ago; we’ve been trying to get things settled between us and reconnect, and he brought you up,” he shrugged and motioned to his car, “but that’s a story for later. Let’s get heading back to my place, you guys had a long flight.”

Dean refused to sit in the passenger seat next to Sam on the way to his apartment, instead sitting in the back with me. I listened to them talk for a while, glad they’re getting along, before I fell asleep pressed up against Dean’s side.

When I woke, we were no longer in the car but at Sam’s, me on the couch while the other two sat at the table, talking and sipping on beers. I groaned and stretched, stiff from the uncomfortable sleeping position, before I sat up. Dean’s chuckled when I rubbed at an eye, “You look beautiful, Cas.”

“Fuck you,” Dean knew I was usually grumpy right after I woke up, so he just laughed again as I shuffled to the bathroom before joining them at the table. Dean patted his lap, having noticed I was still sleepy, and allowed me to doze there for a while.

Some time later he coaxed me awake, nudging my jaw gently and petting down my messy hair while saying my name. I stirred and nuzzled closer, face in a grumpy frown “Mm?”

“Anything you want to do while we’re here? Sam is taking requests.” I woke up just enough to come to the conclusion that there wasn’t really any place I absolutely needed to see, so I left the itinerary planning to Sam and Dean and dozed back off.

  

* * *

 

Nothing too exciting happened during break. Sam took us around the area, showing us his favorite spots and such. Being in a new city was refreshing, mind-clearing almost, allowing the studying that Dean and I crammed in at night to be extremely effective. Sam rolled his eyes whenever he caught us, “You guys study more than me, and that’s saying something.”

“Well sorry, Mr. Know-It-All, that we have to work harder than you do.”

That kept Sam quiet for the rest of the week.

Of course Dean and I dared to have sex while we were there, even though we knew Sam was on the other side of the thin wall and there was no way he wouldn’t have been able to hear us. We tried our hardest to keep our vocals to a minimum, but the bed’s loud banging and creaking is what set the poor guy off, pounding a fist on the wall, “You guys are gross!”

Afterwards, Dean ventured into the kitchen where he knew Sam was waiting to talk to him, sulking out like a puppy that knew he had done something bad. I could hear their bickering through the open door, and that put a smile on my face until I fell asleep.

  

* * *

 

The week went by quicker than either of us would have liked; it seemed like Sam just picked us up from the airport then he was dropping us back off. The brothers got a little misty eyed when parting, Sam promising he’d be the one to make the trip next time, which would probably be for graduation.

Thankfully the flight home didn’t seem quite as long, probably because we had slept for most of it. We were bleary eyed and tired when we shuffled off the plane and through the terminal, on autopilot on our way back out to the car in long-term parking. We slept in the Impala for an hour or two before Dean deemed himself fit to drive, taking us back to our apartment where we crashed until morning.

Spring break out of town was exactly what we had needed, some of our stress over the semester having eased away. Even though it hadn’t been much, it had been the most exciting thing we had done all year, that is, until the fire.

  

* * *

 

The smoke caused us both to stir, but the blaring fire alarm is what woke us completely.

It was the middle of the night and we were in Dean’s place, sound asleep in bed. Back over in my apartment where there was no one, a faulty outlet in the living room that I noticed had been sparking (I had let the apartment manager know about it a while ago, but they hadn’t been in to fix it yet) finally caught the fabric on the back of the couch, even though it had been pulled away. No one had been there to put it out, so the small, glowing hole quickly grew larger and larger before turning into flames and consuming the whole couch, then the chair next to it, then the rug, and so forth.

The detectors had gone off quickly, alerting the fire department, but they ended up having to rush up the stairs since the elevator was so slow. Just a few minutes after Dean and I woke, confused as to why our throats and eyes burned, the firemen stormed in and guided us safely into the hall.

That’s when I realized that it was my place causing all of this. “No!” Dean held me back as I tried to turn around and go back to save stuff, not thinking clearly in my panic.

The fire was extinguished by the time we managed to get to the safety of the sidewalk outside, but there was still smoke floating out of my now broken windows high above us. I started crying then, curling into Dean as he held me close.

 

* * *

  

No one was allowed back on our floor, or any of the floors above us and one below us, until they knew that there was no structural damage and until that plug could be fixed. We stayed with Charlie for those few days, skipping school (after informing our teachers of what happened) and only going to work. She had insisted on buying us a few sets of clothes for the time we were there, saying that she felt like she had to help us in some way. I was still a mess the entire time though, wondering what had been saved and what had been lost, but thankfully I had had insurance so I knew that a few things would be able to be replaced.

When we were finally let back up to our apartments, I broke into sobs at the sight of my singed living room. There was a thick layer of soot everywhere and the couch and chair were metal skeletons. Our shoes left behind footprints as we ventured further into the room, eyes wide as they took the mess in.

It didn’t take me long to notice that the sparking outlet had already been replaced, and for a moment I thought about suing, Dean reading my mind, “My brother could help.”

“He’s only in pre-law,” my voice was small, shaking, “it wouldn’t be worth all the time and money anyway.” I could feel Dean’s hands on my shoulders, massaging them while quietly speaking his magical words of reassurance to me. I knew that nothing too important had been lost, but it still hurt to see it all destroyed like this.

As we stood there, Dean turned me around and let me press against his chest, the tears that had been on my face leaving dark spots against the soft fabric of his shirt. After a moment of contemplation, mentally going through what things I had left and all the adjustments that would have to be made if he said yes to my question, I asked, “Can I move in with you?”

That was probably one of the last questions Dean had been expecting, but he nodded nonetheless, “Sure, Cassy. Of course.” Just knowing that we’d be sharing a place now, together as a couple, set me heart a little bit more at ease. “I’m surprised we hadn’t earlier, actually. Would have saved us both a couple hundred bucks each month for rent, since we’d be splitting.”

I just smiled up at him, giving him a gentle kiss, “I love you,” as we stood there amongst the ash.

 

* * *

 

Moving in with Dean was easy enough, all of my stuff just needing to be taken across the hall. We had it done in just a few hours until the only things left in my apartment were all the burnt stuff, which obviously would be thrown away, along with all the junk I realized I didn’t need. Of the things that had worth something, I sold, the rest was donated.

Once I was settled into Dean’s place, things just felt... right. We were sharing one place, one table, one bed. No longer his or mine, but ours. He didn’t care about formalities, what was technically his just because he bought it, but embraced sharing, even going so far as to mention our future together, “Who knows, Cas, maybe one day you and I could get a place of our own.”

“Like... another apartment?” My head was tilted some.

“No, like... a house.”

“Oh...” I let that thought wash over me, a happy warmth growing in my chest at the thought of still being together after school, starting our own lives with proper jobs and plans and an actual home, “I’d love that, Dean.”

“And who knows,” I could tell he was being hesitant now, watching his own finger circle around the edge of his beer bottle instead of looking at me, “maybe we could... get married? You know, start,” he coughed, face scrunching up some, “start a family and all that.”

Being only the second year of us being together, I knew it was a little early for that kind of talk, but I would have been lying if I hadn’t agreed with him.

Standing, I circled around the table and came over to straddle his lap, answering his suggestion with a deep kiss at first before responding vocally, “Now that, Dean Winchester, would be a dream come true.”


	5. Summer of the Second Year

We were like clockwork now, having reached a point in our relationship where we couldn’t really love each other any more even if we tried. Dean and I were happy and content and looking forward to the rest of our time together. Of course we thought we’d be getting many, many more years, though, not just two...

   

Dean loved giving me surprises.

This year for my birthday he woke me with kisses and made me breakfast before demanding I grab my swim trunks and get in the car. I assumed we’d be visiting the beach, but we ended up going in the complete opposite direction, “Dean, where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise,” his voice was a little harsh, the traffic on the expressway already backed up despite the early hour, from what we later found out was a car accident. “It will be good though, I promise. Somewhere you’ve never been before.”

That kept me quiet for a while, running through a list in my head of places I haven’t visited yet, but also required a swimsuit. “A lake house?” He shook his head, fingers tapping the wheel in annoyance at the gridlock. “Hmm... a water park?” No change in his expression but another shake of his head. He swore a moment later and laid on the horn, so I decided to stop trying to quiz him about it and just let him be.

We drove, well, more like inched along, in silence, save for the radio keeping his nerves somewhat at bay. We were like that for nearly a half hour before Dean said, “Fuck it,” and drove over onto the shoulder, now speeding past all the other backed up cars.

My heart rate increased some, not wanting Dean to get a ticket or get in an accident, “What are you doing?”

“Getting us out of here.”

There was no exit ramp for the next few miles, “You can’t just drive until you hit a ramp, Dean, we can’t--” then I saw the entrance ramp appearing beside us, no cars merging onto the expressway. Now my heart really hammered, “Dean Winchester, don’t you dare.” He ignored me, spinning the wheel sharply to get us turned around, the car now going the wrong way up the ramp, “Dean! What if a car comes?!”

“Cas, the ramp is clear! Relax.”

But it didn’t stay clear for long.

We were nearly at the road when a huge tractor trailer decided to turn onto the ramp, coming right at us, “Dean!”

“Hold on!”

I don’t know what happened really. I squeezed my eyes shut to brace myself for some sort of impact as the car sped up, the roar of the truck growing louder, its horn blaring.

At the time I thought we were going to die, even though once I looked back, neither vehicles had been going all too fast, and there had been plenty of room to pull off into the grass, but you know me, I worry too much while in the moment.

We made it past the truck somehow, the car swerving onto the road with a squeal of its tires before Dean gave a whoop of success, “That’s what I’m talking about! ... Cas?” I could only imagine how I looked, probably all pale and shaky, enough to cause Dean to pull over into a random parking lot just to check on me, “Cas? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you... Are you okay?”

It took me a moment to open my eyes, going over my hands and arms, the car around me, making sure nothing was damaged from the accident we somehow didn’t get in. Next, my eyes flickered up to him, a mix of anger and fright in my fierce gaze, “Don’t you ever scare me like that again.” I must have sounded extremely menacing, Dean’s face going serious as he swallowed and nodded.

We sat there a moment, Dean eventually unbuckling and scooting over to comfort me, making sure I was okay, “How about I tell you where we’re going, will that make you feel better?”

A deep breath from me, “You can try, but...” I was in a very deep mood, bitter with him.

“A waterpark, Cas. I’m taking you to a waterpark,” then quieter to himself, “can’t believe you’ve never been to one.”

So I had been able to guess it, but the little stinker had bluffed. He had been right about that making me feel better though, all sour feelings inside me being replaced with shocked excitement; I slapped his arm playfully, “You’re not serious.”

“I am,” he glanced at me with a smirk, “told you it’d make you feel better.”

“Dean!” Like a little kid, a huge smile spread across my face and I could no longer sit still, fidgeting in my seat with anticipation.

Now it seemed to take forever for us to get there, and it also didn’t help that he opted to take back roads to avoid the expressway. It was worth the wait though, me practically dragging him up to the gates once we arrived.

We hurried into the changing rooms and got in our trunks, renting out a locker before heading into the park itself. I beelined straight for the wave pool, wanting to start with something gentle.

I gave a giggle as I dipped my toes into the water, holding Dean’s hand in one of my own and an inner tube in the other as we waded in. “This is amazing, Dean. thank you so much.”

He just shook his head and smiled, “You’ve barely done anything, Cas. Just wait, it gets better.” Taking us further in until the water was up to our waists, we slipped into our inner tubes and looked around when a buzzer sounded.

That’s when the waves began.

It took me a second to get a hang of what I should do, but with a little instruction from Dean, we were soon bobbing along, laughing whenever we got pulled under some or swept a bit away.

We moved in deeper and stayed there for a few more cycles before getting out and heading over to one of the more gentler looking slides. I was still nervous, even though there were much bigger and scarier ones I wanted to try going on, but thankfully we were allowed to go down in pairs, Dean wrapping himself behind me.

I whooped and hollered, as did Dean, all the way to the bottom where we landed with a splash in the pool. “See, that wasn’t too bad.”

Dean would start to regret saying that after every slide, since by the end of the day, we only had one slide left, and it was the most intimidating one in the park.

The roles were flipped now; I was excited, bouncing and smiling as I held on to Dean’s hand, wanting to feel the adrenaline rush through me as we slid nearly vertically and through horizontal loops and turns, while Dean was scared, afraid that’d we’d somehow slip off the track and go flying through the air.

When we finally got to the top, after waiting in line for what felt like forever, Dean was the one to ask if we could go together, “I’m sorry, sir, but this one is a solo shot. You guys can go at the same time in separate slides, though, race to the bottom.” For a moment I was afraid that Dean was going to back out, but finally he squared his shoulders with a deep breath and gave a nod, climbing into the start of the slide and taking a seat, as did I. “1... 2... 3... go!”

And we were off.

In between the shouts of thrill I was giving, I could sometimes hear Dean over on his slide as well, but I wasn’t sure if his noises were from joy or fright.

He ended up beating me to the bottom, waiting there for me when I shot out into the pool. I popped up quickly and asked if we could go again, noting the grin on his face, and to my surprise, he was just as eager to head back up for one more round.

Eventually the day came to an end, both of us happy but exhausted as we changed back into our normal clothes and returned to the car. I ended up falling asleep against my door, waking again in Dean’s bed. He must have just set me down because when I turned, I could see the bathroom light on and hear him brushing his teeth.

I went in to join him, sliding up against his back with my arms around his waist, my head on his shoulder. My kept my eyes closed as I nuzzled and kissed his neck, “Thank you for today. It was the best birthday ever.”

He mumbled something with his mouth full, which I didn’t understand at all, then repeated it after he spit, “Oh, it’s not over yet.” I raised a brow. “Charlie and all them are coming over tomorrow for cake and ice cream, plus,” he turned around now so we were front to front, his hands on my sides, “We still have tonight.”

I recognized that tone of voice and smirked at him, “Oh, is that so?”

Retreating from the bathroom, Dean kissed at my neck as we moved backwards until we hit the bed, landing on it with a plop. The sex we had that night was almost as amazing as the first time we had done it last summer, Dean turning me to putty as he catered to my every want since I was the birthday boy.

Hours later when we were finally sated, Dean leaned over the bed for something underneath, “One last present for you, Cassy.”

“Mm?” I let my fingers trail over his back as he bent, tracing the freckles there, “Another toy?”

That got a laugh out of him, “No, not really, but...” he came back up with a small box, setting it between us, “Just open it.”

I took my time with the wrapping paper, knowing that it drove him crazy (“Just tear it, Cas! It’s not like I’m going to reuse it!”), before finally reaching the plain cardboard box underneath. I hmm-ed in contemplation before opening it, gasping at what was inside, “Dean!”

It was a camera, one of those fancy-pants, high end ones that I had been wanting for the past year but didn’t want to spend the money on. “Happy birthday, baby.” He kissed my temple as I sat there, staring at it in awe.

“I can’t believe this...” Working my way into the box, I dug the camera out and threw in some batteries, immediately wanting to use it. Dean smiled and posed at first, but it wasn’t long before he sighed with a tired smile, “Can’t we mess around with it in the morning, Cas? We’ve been up for--” he glanced at the clock, 2am, “--19 hours. It isn’t even your birthday anymore.”

“Well, aren’t you a party pooper,” I was tired though too, setting the camera and its packaging on the nightstand before curling up with Dean to sleep. “Again, thank you. Now I have no doubt that this was the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

He hummed and smiled, already half out of it, “Good, glad my plan was a success.”

I pressed one last kiss to his jaw before tucking underneath of his chin, an overjoyed smile still upon my face when I finally calmed down enough to sleep.

 

* * *

  

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Cas, happy birthday to you!”

Everyone was crowded around me, Sam watching from a laptop propped open at the end of the table, as I sat at in front of a cake with 23 flickering candles atop it. Dean kissed my cheek, “Make a wish, Cassy.” Closing my eyes, I thought long and hard about what I wanted before taking a deep breath to blow out the little flames.

Cheers rang out, Charlie blowing into one of those party favors that uncurl and make that ridiculous noise, everyone else clapping and whooping.

Dean handed me the knife and I cut the cake, claiming the corner because it was the piece with the most frosting, and he gave me a scoop of moose tracks ice cream, “Eat up, birthday boy.” I happily did, venturing into the living room where everyone could fit more comfortably. Dean brought the laptop along, Sam having his own cupcake to celebrate with us despite the distance.

As soon as we were done eating, Sarah, one of our new friends from the GSA who had been flirting with Sam on the laptop all evening, hurried to clean up all our plates before returning from the kitchen with boxes and bags in hand, “Time for presents!”

They had been hiding them on me, having known I asked them all to not get me anything. I blushed and glared at them all with a smile, “You guys suck.”

“Love you too, Cas,” Charlie sat beside me on the couch, Dean on the other side, everyone else sitting in a semi-circle around me, watching like hawks as I dug into my gifts.

Most of them were little things, like movies or books, the easy buys, but Dean’s was a little more... complex. It was a praying angel, its wings as black as night as it kneeled there with its eyes closed, hands together as it prayed. I could feel my heart swell, tears filling my eyes, “It’s beautiful, Dean. Thank you.”

Dean knew I wasn’t necessarily religious, but that I favored Cassiel, the angel I was named after. As I turned the figurine over and over in my hands, admiring every detail, I spoke just loud enough for everyone to hear, “‘Cassiel is the Latin name of an archangel in post-biblical Judeo-Christian religion, particularly that of the Kabbalah. Unlike many other angels, Cassiel is known for simply watching the events of the cosmos unfold with little interference’,” I smiled up at Dean, who was shaking his head as he watched me with a grin, “‘He is the angel of solitude and tears, and is said to preside over the deaths of kings.’”

“You’re such a nerd, quoting from Wikipedia.”

“Shut up.”

He pulled me close and kissed my temple, “You like it, right?”

“Of course, here,” I stood and went over to the window, setting the figurine on the sill where it could watch the going-ons of both the room and the street below. My eyes were drawn to it again and again not just that night, but whenever I was in the room, a warm and relaxed feeling spreading through me whenever I laid eyes upon my namesake.

As we all sat there and chatted, now watching one of my new movies, the last few words of the description I had quoted about Cassiel ran over and over in my head. “...angel of solitude and tears, and is said to preside over the death of kings.”


	6. Beginning of the First Year

As we entered our third year of college, the stress both of us were experiencing seemed to grow. We weren’t able to see each other as much as we were used to, and classes were getting harder. But someway, somehow, me managed to work our way through all of it...

 

The first two weeks of the semester were hell. Classes were as hard as ever, our teachers swamping us with work right from the get-go. We thought we had prepared ourselves well for the challenges we knew were coming, but apparently not.

For the first time since college started, I had a night class. I hated it. The subject matter was fine, pretty easy, actually, but by the time I got home, Dean was exhausted and usually ready for bed, if he didn’t have school work to do. His classes started early, 8am, and went until 4 in the afternoon. I started a little later than him, noon, but didn’t get home until around 10.

The weekends weren’t any better, both of us working our asses off while worrying about school and each other, stress getting an early grip on us both. I don’t know how many times I’d come home, no matter what day, and find numerous beer bottles scattered about the apartment or in the bag to be recycled, but I never got around to asking Dean about them.

As soon as we got in bed that second Sunday night into the semester, I broke down crying. Dean didn’t have to ask why, just holding me close as he rubbed my back. After a while, he asked hesitantly, “Maybe I could ask for fewer hours? That’d give us some time to be together on the weekends.” I just shook my head and he dropped the idea, both of us knowing we needed the money.

Things got a little easier as the weeks went by and we adjusted to the tighter schedules, but we were clearly emotionally affected by it all. Our friends and classmates asked more and more frequently if we were okay, especially Dean, who was starting to lose weight again.

As we laid there in bed one morning, his class having a late start that day, I ran my hands over his chest and ribs and gave a small, displeased noise. And he knew why, closing his eyes, “M’fine.” I slid my hands up his shirt now, the look of pain on my face growing as his ribs pressed against my hands, hardly anything there to soften their sharp edges, “Cas...”

I let him guide my hands out from his shirt, watching as he brought them up to his lips to kiss, “I love you, baby. You know that, right?”

A nod, “I know, and I love you too, but... you’re skinny...” Not as skinny as he’d eventually become, though, although I didn’t know it at the time. “You need to let me put a little meat on your bones.”

He just shrugged and started to climb out of bed, “Not hungry.” He hardly ever seemed to be anymore, not that I was usually home when he was supposed to be eating, but still. “I’ll get better once we graduate.” That would turn out to be a vast overstatement.

Knowing I’d be watching his every move, he went to change in the bathroom, not needing my comment about how his hips shouldn’t poke out like that, how they should be soft and round, not all sharp-edged and grave looking.

I don’t know how many times I cried from worrying about Dean’s health. Plenty of times he saw me doing it, too, wiping away my tears with another, “I’m fine, Cassy,” before giving me a kiss goodbye and heading out the door.

He wasn’t, though, and never would be again.

 

* * *

 

One day the elevator finally gave out.

It was one of our rare days off that we had together, and Dean and I spent it relaxing. We were still in bed, Dean reading his Advance Engineering book to me, reading the text aloud a way to help him study. Yeah, it was a little boring for me, but I loved to hear the sound of his voice, feel the movement of his chest as he spoke.

Around noon we decided we better get up, grab some lunch. He called the Chinese place down the street while I got dressed, 15 minutes later I was out the door. I could feel Dean’s eyes on my back, well, more like my ass, as I made my way down the hall and pressed the down button for the elevator. Turning back to him, I gave him a small wave in goodbye and watched him disappear back inside the apartment.

After a few seconds of standing there waiting for the elevator to show up, I decided to just take the stairs instead for whatever reason, maybe because I thought I needed the exercise. Anyway, it didn’t take me that long to reach the ground floor and head down the block to pick up our food.

As I was paying, an ambulance and a fire truck passed outside, sirens blaring, but I didn’t really pay any attention to them. When I was returning to our apartment building and saw them outside, though, that’s when I became a bit worried.

Jogging up to the front steps, bags of food cradled in my arms, I pushed my way through the small crowd onlookers and tried to get inside before I was stopped by a police officer and told to back up, “No, no I live here. What’s going on?”

“Elevator gave out, but there was no one on it that we know of.”

A sigh of relief, “Oh, okay. Can...” I was going to ask if I could take the stairs up to my apartment, but someone shouting from inside caught my ear.

At first it was muffled, indistinguishable noises behind glass panels, but the noise became clear when the officer opened the doors to go inside and investigate, “No! Cas... Cas! Cas!”

It took me a moment to realize who that was, Dean, and why he was shouting my name when I was standing right here. Had he been hurt somehow? Had I actually been in the elevator and was in fact now dead, a mere ghost standing on the sidewalk? No, no I felt pretty alive, but -- the last time Dean saw me, I had been waiting for the elevator.

He thought I had been in it when it gave out.

“Dean!” I rushed to get inside, my heart racing in worry, “Dean! Dean, I’m here! I’m okay!” There was a firefighter holding him back as he struggled against him, hands reaching for the smoking elevator shaft. He was still shouting, his cheeks shiny with tears, “Dean!” He only stopped when I stepped between him and the elevator, right into his line of sight, “Dean, I’m fine! I took the stairs.”

He went quiet and still, eyes searching my face and my body like I was something completely new to him. The fireman let him go and I gave him a smile before held up our food a little, “I have lunch.”

He moved so fast that next thing I knew he was hugging me, telling me over and over that he loved me and that he had been so scared, that he thought I had been killed. Soon enough he had me in tears, all the affection pouring out from him overwhelming. I moved us over to a bench by the mailboxes so we could sit until we calmed down.

The pure happiness on his face at just the mere sight of me pulled on my heart, and the passionate kiss he gave me sent my head spinning. His hands were on the sides of my face when he teasingly growled against my lips, “Don’t ever fucking do that again, you hear me?”

I played along, humming in agreement before kissing him again then suggesting, “Maybe we should go upstairs now, Dean. Our lunch is getting cold.”

He nipped at my jaw, hands having now slid down to my neck. I closed my eyes and felt his words vibrate through me in between kisses, “Not like we can’t microwave it.”

“We’re going to have to, by the time we climb all those stairs.”

That made him laugh, giving me one last smooch before taking my hand and leading me upstairs.

  

* * *

 

Dean practically clung to me for the rest of the day, not that I could blame him. We cuddled despite the fading heat of summer, Dean wanting to make sure I was right there in his arms, solid and alive and not just some figment of his imagination.

Wanting to distract his mind some, I took him into the bedroom once the sun had set and told him to lie there as I got ready.

“Ready for what?”

“You’ll see,” I took out the camera Dean bought me for my birthday and set it beside him with a kiss to his lips before grabbing something out of the dresser and heading into the bathroom, smirking as he made the comment about me being a big tease.

About 20 minutes later I was ready, opening the door swiftly and stepping into doorway, leaning against the frame. Dean turned his attention from the instruction booklet of the camera and let his eyes rake over me, jaw slowly dropping, “...holy shit.”

I was standing there bare naked save for the pair of red lace panties he had given me what seemed like such a long time ago. Nodding to the camera, I watched his eyes go a little wide before he picked it up, licking his lips. It felt a little odd to have the camera pointing at me for once, but I put on my sexiest pout and tried to pose just right, much to Dean’s pleasure.

After he directed me some, telling me at what angle to move my arm or how far to arch my back, he gave a growl, “Get your ass over here, blue eyes.” And hell, did I make a show of doing it. You could hear the click of the camera as I sauntered over, getting on my knees on the bed to crawl over to him before sitting up, now kneeling there as he took picture after picture.

“Having fun, Dean?”

He groaned at the tone of my voice, “Hell yeah.”

We had fun that night with the camera, the photos ranging from teasing to X-rated. Dean even joined in on the fun as well, pulling on his favorite satin panties, black with a rhinestone skull on the front. I don’t know how many pictures we took, but we made sure to print them out (with a portable photo printer we bought at the store) and delete them off the SD card that way no innocent eyes would stumble across them on accident.

Even today I still have those photos. Sure, they’re all faded and worn, but it makes me happy to look at them, remembering all the fun and happiness Dean and I had together, how perfect we had been for each other. But it also saddened me to know that we were so unprepared for what was going to happen, so hopeful for the future together that would get ripped away from us.

Sometimes I wish I hadn’t met Dean. It would have saved me the pain and suffering of losing him, of having to go off into that future we had planned together alone and afraid, wondering how I could even go on in life without him by my side. But somehow I made, even though I never really felt whole again after he was taken from me, which, by looking at the date on the pictures, would be all too soon.


	7. Middle of the Final Year

This was it, our final year. College had gone by in the blink of an eye and now our future was staring us right in the face, scaring the shit out of us. It seemed like nearly everyone in our graduating class was constantly in a calm panic, somehow pushing through the last two semesters even though they had no clue what the fuck was going on, Dean and I being no different...

 

“What happens if I don’t, Cas? Huh? I’m going to have to take another semester, which I can’t afford!”

“Dean--”

“And don’t you even think about paying it for me! Sammy neither. This is my schooling, my money, my. problem.”

“Dean--”

“No, Cas! Just stop, I don’t care how many times I have to tell you--”

“ _DEAN_!”

Finally, he shut up.

“Let me talk.” I was a little annoyed that he’d kept interrupting me, but I took deep breath and remained calm, “You will be fine. You will pass this semester, you will graduate, you will find a job, and you will have a happy life. I know you can do it, Dean, you just have to relax and stop worrying, or you won’t be getting anywhere.”

I watched him stop all that pacing he’d been doing and flop onto the couch, me sitting beside him with a comforting arm around around his back, “And so what if you have to take another semester? It wouldn’t be the end of the world. Sure, it may be a hell of a lot more difficult, but hey, you would have taken all the classes once already, so you’d know what to expect and could improve on that.”

That last part seemed to finally put him at some sort of ease, a long, drawn out breath escaping his lungs. He ran his hands over his thin face and leaned back, his skin taut against his collar bones. Too taut. “Can you promise me something?”

“Hm?” He kept his eyes closed, head on the back cushion.

“After school’s over, if you don’t get...” I wrapped my hand around his too bony wrist before threading our fingers, unable to even put any sort of name to what was clearly taking a toll on this body, “Go to the doctor’s.”

“I’m fine, Cas.”

I didn’t press, never did. He knew I had been worrying about him for a while now, but every time I brought it up, he just shut me down. Besides, he knew what was going on with his body better than I did, so for all I knew, this could just be what happens with it when it’s put under severe stress. I’d have to ask Sam.

  

* * *

 

Sam gasped when I held the picture up for him to see, “Oh god,” my stomach knotted at his expression of shock before Sam made a face, “Are those... _panties_?”

“Wha--” a huff as I set one of our more recent ‘private’ pictures down, since it had been the one that best showcased the way Dean’s body had changed since Sam last saw him. “Sam.”

“Sorry, I just,” he shook his head and rubbed his eyes, “Yeah, Dean is... I’ve never seen him that skinny before.” Exactly what I had feared, “He looks so... small...”

“He is, smaller than me in some places.” Glancing over my shoulder, I looked back at where steam was falling out from the open bathroom door, “He seems to fragile, too, like any little thing will snap him right in half.”

“Has he gone to the doctor’s?”

“He refuses to, says he’s fine.”

“Cas, he is not fine.”

“I know,” my voice cracked and I put a hand over my mouth, trying to keep myself together. A moment, then, “He shuts me down whenever I bring it up though. I asked him today if he’d promise me to get checked out if he doesn’t get better after graduation, but...” A wave of my hand as a tear slipped down my cheek, “Dean is being Dean. Stubborn as hell.”

Sam nodded, “A Dean I know all too well.”

We went quiet then, both of us thinking about Dean, knowing we shared the same worries. Then the shower stopped and I whispered to Sam so Dean couldn’t hear, “Talk to him, okay? Please?”

“I’ll see what I can do. And hey, Cas?”

“Yeah?” I had my hand ready to close the laptop.

“Thanks for letting me know.” 

 

* * *

 

I knew the exact night Sam called by all the shouting that woke me up. Laying there, I listened to Dean’s voice through the walls, “Stop fucking worrying about me, okay?! God damn, the next person that asks me if I’m okay, I’m going to fucking punch them!” A pause, I could feel my heart hammering, “It’s my body, Sam. None of your goddamn business... no, it’s not Cas’ business either!” That hurt more than I’d ever admit. “So what if I’m drinking again?” I had noticed he’d been getting a little tipsy more often, but it seemed to help him cope with stress, so I had never really addressed it.

Dean’s voice dropped dramatically, my ears straining to hear, “No, I’m not going to get as bad as I was. ... He doesn’t even know, Sam, and I don’t want him to, okay? He doesn’t need to know about that shit.”

What the hell was he talking about?

I jumped when I heard his footsteps outside of the bedroom door; faking sleep, I closed my eyes and went limp, hearing him whisper as he poked his head in the room, “Nah, he’s out. Surprised all the shouting didn’t wake him.”

As soon as he was gone again, my eyes popped open as my thoughts started swirling; what hadn’t he told me that he wants to keep secret? I’m his boyfriend, fuck, we’ve talked about everything from gross bathroom stuff to getting married. My jaw clenched as a small wave of anger went through me, but I didn’t get up, didn’t want him to know that I heard.

I never did ask him what that was about, even though I should have. Maybe if I had known it would’ve been a matter of life or death, I would have piped up and said something.

  

* * *

 

The morning of Dean’s birthday, I made sure he awoke to breakfast in bed, “Happy birthday, Dean!”

I made his favorite, blueberry pancakes with eggs, bacon, toast, and orange juice, but yet he hardly ate any of it. “Now I feel bad, like you wasted this all on me...”

“Oh, don’t worry,” sure, I was a little upset, but I pushed my concern away and I put on a smile since it was his day. I grabbed the tray and pulled it over to my lap, “I’ll haven’t ate yet, so I’ll finish it.”

He chuckled and kissed my cheek, his fingers trailing along my thigh while we sat there and chatted as I ate. Eventually Dean asked, “So, any plans for today?”

I gave him a smirk, “What, you think that just because it’s your birthday, I’m going to do something for you?”

He shook his head and gave a little pout, “No, because I actually wanted to ask if we could do something.”

“Oh, well, I do have things planned for this evening, which I would like to remain secret.” He nodded and gave me a brief smile before climbing out of bed, his eyes down, “Why, what did you want to do?”

“I want to go visit my parents.”

 

* * *

 

Dean never talked about his parents, but I don’t blame him.

All I knew was that he and Sammy lost their mom when Sam was still a baby, and their Dad had died when he was a young teen, but not after having installed him with the fear of disobedience. Everything I needed to know about the man Dean told me in one sentence when he was drunk a few months back, “Let’s just say if he knew I was dating a guy, hell, if I’d even checked out a guy, he’d kill me.” It was clear that he wasn’t exaggerating.

But I could tell Dean still missed them, his mom especially. He even had a picture of her in his wallet that I’ve caught him staring at more than once.

We took our time getting ready, Dean quiet and not replying with anything but noises whenever I spoke to him, “What, are you mute now?” He just shook his head with a smirk and left the bathroom to grab a tie.

Of course it was drizzling out, the stereotypical weather for whenever a cemetery was going to be visited. Dean and I had our heavy jackets on to keep the rain off our dress clothes, but we ditched them once we got in the car since it was still a bit too warm for them.

“Do you want me to drive?” He’d been sitting there just staring at the dashboard, keys in hand, for a good minute now; he gave a nod, handing me the keys, and we switched spots.

Things were quiet as I drove, I could about feel Dean smouldering next to me. “Tell me what you’re thinking, baby.”

He just shook his head.

I let him be, only talking to him again when I pulled into a gas station, “Do you want any--oh.” He was already out of the car to head inside.

He came back when I was about done filling the car, a bouquet of flowers in hand. I just smiled and finished up at the pump.

 

* * *

  

“Hey, mom.”

I stood back behind Dean, holding the umbrella while I watched him.

“I miss you.”

Kneeling, Dean set the flowers up against her headstone, reaching up to rub his thumb over her name.

Straightening up again, Dean took a step back and hooked his arm around my waist, “This is Cas. Say hi, baby.”

“Hello, Mrs. Winchester.”

“I’m going to marry him.” Affection and love bubbled up in me when he said that, and I closed my eyes as he nuzzled against my cheek.

Dean talked to Mary for a little while longer before he asked me if he could speak with his dad alone, which of course I respected, heading back to the Impala to wait.

I watched him stand there at the grave beside Mary’s for a few minutes, not really saying much to the stone slab, before he flipped it off and returned to the car.

“Ready to go?”

“Yeah.”

“Still want me to drive?”

His gloomy expression broke into a small smirk, “Yeah, you look hot when you do.”

I just shook my head and started the car.

 

* * *

 

“...wow.”

Dean and I stood before Mélisse, a “chic French-New American” restaurant that I had made reservations at for Dean’s birthday dinner.

We were a little intimidated, looking down at our not overly expensive suits with the sudden feeling that we were underdressed for such a classy place.

Glancing at each other, I took a deep breath before lacing our fingers to lead him inside, giving the reservation name, “Winchester,” to the hostess at the podium who showed us to our table.

A bottle of wine was brought to us, having already been requested by me when I called. “Pol Roger?” Dean inspected the bottle in the ice bucket after it was left at the table, our glasses having been filled by the waiter, “Looks expensive.”

“It was the cheapest they had, plus I’ve had it before, it’s not too bad.” Taking a sip of mine, I smiled at the pleasant taste and tingles from the carbonation. Dean tried some and nodded in approval.

Picking up our menus now, both of us squinted at the combination of languages, most of the French dishes a mystery until you read the English description.

Clearing my throat, I sat up a little straighter, “I know a few words in French.”

“Oh?” He peeked at me over his menu a second with a raised brow.

“Mhm. _Apéritif_.”

“‘A pair of teeth’?”

My nose scrunched as I laughed, “No, Dean. Ah-pair-ah- _teef_.”

He just stared at me and then repeated, “‘A pair of teef’.”

“You’re impossible,” I shook my head with a sigh, “Try this one. _Amuse-bouche_.”

“‘A-muse... douche.”

I hissed, “Dean,” and laughed some more as a few people around us looked over.

“Sorry, man, I just don’t do other languages well.”

I kept rattling things off nonetheless, “ _Potage_ , _œuf_ , _coquilles_ , _entrée_ , _sorbet_ \--” He was staring at me now, “What?”

“...aren’t those _Hannibal_ episodes?”

Uh-oh. “Um, are they? I didn’t realize...”

He just snorted and looked back down, “Cheater.”

I hid behind my menu, cheeks red, until the waiter came to take our order.

As we sat there sipping our wine and munching on the breadsticks, Dean looked around, “This place is classy... almost too classy.”

“There’s such a thing as ‘too classy’?”

“Mhm. Like, snobby. This place feels almost snobby.”

Well then. I swallowed and looked down at my glass, fingers running absently up and down its neck, “Fine, I’ll make a note not to bring you here again.”

“Cas, no,” he sighed before reaching across the table for my hand, “That’s not what I meant. I’m thrilled that you brought me here, I really am. I just...” he looked around the place again and waved his free hand.

“You would have preferred a bar and some burgers.”

That made him smile, “To be honest, yeah...”

“Then let’s go, nothing on the menu sounded good anyway.”

“Wait, really?” I gave a nod while looking around for our waiter to flag him over. “But you went through all the trouble--”

“Which doesn’t mean anything if you’re not happy. It’s fine, Dean. I should have known better.” I gave him a smile then, truly wanting him to make him happy instead of just impressing him.

The waiter was ticked off when we cancelled on what we ordered, giving him a fifty to pay for the wine and tip. “But your orders have already been put in.”

“Sorry, _monsieur_ ,” Dean eyed the throbbing vein that appeared on the man’s temple, “But we’re blowing this popsicle stand for something a little more...” I gave Dean a warning glare, wanting him to be nice, “me, I guess.” The waiter just blinked, Dean patting his shoulder, “Beer and burgers, man, beer and burgers.”

   

* * *

 

Dinner at the burger joint downtown, The Roadhouse, went much better than that French place ever would have. We went still dressed up in our suits, but we ditched the coats, loosened our ties, and rolled up our sleeves, “This feels so much better, Cas.”

“It does, I should have just brought us here in the first place.”

He nodded, “Can I tell you something? All that fancy stuff? Sure, it was great and whatnot, different, but this,” he gestured around us, “this is what I enjoy most. Relaxed atmosphere, great food, cheap prices, pool and darts... But you knew that, didn’t you?”

“Mhm, I just... I don’t know. I thought that place would be...”

“Let’s just forget it, Cas, okay? We’re here now, and I’m as happy as a clam.”

That made me smile, “I’m glad. Happy birthday, Dean.

 

* * *

 

It never occurred to me that since Dean was afraid of flying in a “metal tube of death,” that he’d be afraid to go in a hot air balloon as well.

“Cas, I don’t know...” We stood in the clearing and watched the man as he filled the giant balloon with gas, “It’s still... up there...” glancing up, we could see the other balloon high in the sky, floating gently towards the landing zone a few miles away.

I squeezed his hand and rested my head on his shoulder, the camera around my neck swinging down to bump his side, “We don’t have to go if you don’t want to, but I really don’t think it will be as bad as an airplane.”

He didn’t say anything until the balloon pilot, an older fellow, came over and cocked his head, “So? Y’all goin’ up?”

Dean looked down at me and took a deep breath before giving a nod, “Yeah, we are.” I broke into a grin and reached up to give him a kiss before we headed over, listening as the guy rambled off rules and all that.

Climbing into the basket, Dean stood in the corner, one hand wrapped tightly around the frame, and held me as close as he could. “You’re alright, Dean. We’ll be okay.” I could feel him shaking against me some, his eyes wide and frightened, although we haven’t even gotten off the ground yet.

“Close your eyes, Dean.” He shot me a glare like I was crazy, “Just listen to me. Close your eyes.” He did. “Now take a deep breath and don’t open them until I say so.”

In through his nose and out through his mouth, Dean filled his lungs with air and let himself relax a little. I was tucked under his arm, able to feel what muscles he had left on his bones loosen some.

We both jumped when the man pulled the handle to unleash a wicked plume of flame up into the balloon. A few more of those and the basket jolted as it bounced on the ground a moment before lifting into the air.

Dean tensed back up immediately but still kept his eyes closed, giving a whimper and pulling me suffocatingly close. My face was smooshed to his chest but I didn’t pull away, letting him hold me there until the basket stopped rocking.

“Oh my god,” I could see for miles, the landscape rippling beneath us as we climbed higher and higher in the balloon, “Dean, look.”

He didn’t want to at first, but as soon as he did, I could just see the worry and nervousness melt from him. He mimicked my earlier statement, “Oh my god.”

The sky was in layers of yellow, orange, red, and pink, the setting sun igniting the clouds in glorious fury, a spectacle like nothing I’ve ever seen before in my life. The green of the land below us seemed to go on forever and ever, right to the edge of the world where the green and orange clashed. Off to our right they were separated by a streak of blue, the ocean dividing land and air.

“It’s so beautiful...” we were both awestruck, our mouths agape as we rose higher and higher. Of course the balloon was only able to go up so far; our ears rang when the roar of the flame above us ceased, sending us into near silence, save for the wind that ruffled our hair and clothes.

I could feel emotions welling up in me as we took it all in, the sight almost too overwhelming to process. After a moment I took the camera and snapped a few photos, even though I knew they’d pale in comparison to the real thing.

“We’re flying, Dean.” And it really felt like it if I closed my eyes, which I did as I snuck my arms under his coat to snuggle up against his warm body.

Like I hadn’t noticed it numerous times before, I started crying a little when I realized how skinny he actually was, his narrow torso so much smaller than the first time I hugged him years ago. All that muscle had mostly wasted away from “stress,” even though we both knew it was more than that.

It didn’t take him long to notice my tears, raking a hand through my hair while whispering, “It’s okay, Cassy. I’m okay, we’re okay.” My soft crying only got worse at the sound of his voice. I could feel his breath hitch some, his own tears dropping into my hair. I knew he knew what I was thinking but didn’t dare voice: I wanted the old him back, the more active, heavier built, happy Dean. The Dean that wasn’t sick with whatever was ailing him.

We didn’t talk about it for the rest of the flight, didn’t talk about it when we landed back on solid ground. Smiles were on our faces, forced at first but soon returning to natural ones, the view from the last half hour playing on a loop in our heads as we were given a ride back to the car. “That was beautiful, Cas. Never thought I would like something like that.”

I just let him hold me close, words not enough to let him know how much he meant to me. Both of us knew, though, that no words needed to be spoken for my love to be felt, the connection between us more intense and passionate than either of us had ever experienced before.

The rumble of the car’s engine was about the only noise we heard on the way home. I did remind him at one point though that the night was in fact not over, that I still had one more thing in store for him.

  

* * *

 

Of course Dean knew he was probably going to get birthday sex that night, and that’s exactly what I was going to do, or at least planned on doing, anyway.

It seemed to take forever for us to get ready for bed, not being able to brush our teeth and jump into the sheets quickly enough. Finally after the lights were turned off, I snuggled up close to his lean body -- that still felt somewhat foreign under my hands, bones more prominent in places they shouldn’t be -- and whispered in his ear, “I want to fuck you.”

Dean just gave a throaty groan in reply and rolled us onto our sides, his lips moving smoothly against mine. We shed our clothes, Dean grabbed the lube, and I let him ride me. He made the prettiest of noises, his face grimaced in just the best way, but... nothing was really happening with him downstairs.

Sure, he twitched a few times, but he just couldn’t get hard, and he was getting frustrated about it. He tried to ride me harder, force himself into getting aroused, but it just wasn’t getting up. As much as I enjoyed the roughness, I made him slow down so he didn’t exhaust himself, “D-Dean... please, just... we can try again later.”

He grumbled and gave a stubborn, “No,” his eyes closing. Something in the way he was moving now, the way he tensed and relaxed certain muscles, I could tell he was no longer trying for an orgasm himself but to simply help me finish.

I felt bad for letting him do it, holding his overheated body close to mine as I released inside of him, my moans muffled into his neck. We sat there for a few seconds, him sitting there atop me moving just the slightest to give me a few last tingles, but I could feel his hot tears landing on my shoulder, “Dean?”

No reply, just a sniffle and a turn of the head as he removed himself off of me and went to the bathroom where he stayed until after I fell asleep more than an hour later.

  

* * *

 

The apartment was too quiet when I woke.

Dean’s usual morning music that he had on while he cooked breakfast wasn’t playing, and after a moment I realized he wasn’t cooking anything to start with, the mouth-watering aromas I was used to waking up to strangely absent.

Perched on stool in the living room with his head against the glass of the window is where I found him. He was asleep, and it broke my heart. Had he even come to bed at all last night? My thoughts started going a million miles an hour with worry and question after question, but I let him be and went to brew some coffee.

Either the noises of me in the kitchen woke him, or he hadn’t really been sleeping in the first place, but I jumped when the slap of his feet sounded on the kitchen tile, “Dean.” He ignored me, going straight to the bedroom and closing the door.

Whether he had gone to bed or not, I never knew, never went and checked on him like I probably should have. Hours later he reemerged, joining me on the couch. He curled right into my side, his body feeling even weaker along with being cold to the touch. I wrapped us up in a blanket before saying softly, “I love you no matter what, Dean.” A pause as I burrowed my nose into his now brittle hair, “Sure, sex can amplify love and give us a heightened connection, but it’s not the end of the world. I myself don’t need that sort of intimacy to know that our love goes above and beyond anything else, that we want to spend the rest of our lives with each other and maybe even start a family one day.”

He just sighed and pressed closer, his body tense.

I wish I knew if I was ever able to change his mind about the whole thing, convince him that sex didn’t have to happen for our love to be strong and true. That whole ordeal was still on my mind when Dean left me, and it still nags me even now.

If I would have known back then how soon I’d lose him, I would have changed everything. My actions, my words, hell, even my sleeping habits, probably. But what happened, happened, no matter how badly I wanted things to change.


	8. End of the Final Year

Besides graduation, the last huzza Dean and I had together was the Gay-Straight Alliance’s annual drag show that Dean convinced me to participate in this year. Sure, the whole event would be overshadowed by the sorrow that would quickly follow, but the pure happiness felt by both of us during the evening was one to remember...

 

“I hate you so fucking much right now.”

“I love you too.”

Dean sat atop the vanity counter, watching as Charlie applied layers of heavy makeup onto my face. Her girlfriend, Gilda, was standing in front of a rack off to the side, choosing my outfits for the evening.

“You look so hot, Cas.”

I peeked an eye open at Dean, “Fuck you.” He just laughed, even more so when Charlie snapped at me to keep my eyes shut.

Music was already thumping out in the theater, and I knew a few hundred people were here to see us guys all dolled up like this.

For some, this was part of their lifestyle, something fun to do on the weekends or even part of who they were, a thing that could allow them to be a version of themselves that they didn’t care to show to the public on a regular basis, but for most of us tonight, it was just a one time thing that would make a great story to tell in a few years.

“What color, Dean?” I felt Gilda hold two different articles of clothing up to me, but I kept my eyes closed to please Charlie, and to keep my outfits a surprise.

Dean hummed, giving way too much thought into it, “The blue one, it brings out his eyes.” I felt my cheeks blush under the makeup. “We’re going to have to borrow these clothes for the bedroom, Cas.”

“Panties not enough for you, Dean?”

Charlie groaned, “Guys! Seriously...”

Both Dean and I laughed, him apologizing even though he tapped my knee with his foot, secretly letting me know that yes, we’d have to try something like this during sexy times.

After what felt like forever, Charlie finally stepped back, “There, I think you’re all set, Cas. Beautiful.”

Opening my eyes, I looked up at the mirror to see-- Dean, blocking it with a huge grin on his face, “Guy-liner is hot on you, babe.”

“Shush. And move.” He smiled and obliged, sliding off the counter. I heard him grunt and groan some, noticing how he leaned on the counter with one hand while trying to cover a look of discomfort on his face.

Distracted by the sudden appearance of color in the mirror, I focused my gaze on it and gasped, the man staring back at me nearly unrecognizable, “Oh my god, Charlie.” I ran my fingertips lightly over the makeup, completely in awe with how different, and admittedly attractive, I looked.

Gilda stepped behind me, putting her and my clothes for the evening into my sight in the mirror; I spun around, “No.” It was a skin-tight blue sequin dress with cut-out sides that had been replaced with netting to match the stockings I would also be wearing, along with the 5-inch black heels. “I’m not wearing that.”

“Oh, I’m not done.” Charlie came into view then holding two things; one, a wig of long black hair that had an array of colors throughout it that matched my dress and makeup, and two, a fluffy blue and silver boa scarf.

Dean took said scarf and wrapped it around his neck before throwing an end over his shoulder in a ridiculous pose, “You will look fabulous, Cas.”

I just clenched my jaw and looked between my friends, telling them all with my eyes that I hated them for convincing me to do this.

After 20 minutes of trying to fit me into that I dress, I finally had it and the rest of my outfit on, standing there with wobbly legs in my heels, “I feel ridiculous.”

“It’s just for fun, Cas, relax. It’s not like you’re going to be the only one out there dressed like this.” He came up and put his arms around my waist, kissing the tip of my nose. The new height difference caused us both to look at each other funny for a moment, as if we were seeing each other in a different way.

A second later we parted, all the guys now being called to line up to go on stage. “Oh god,” my stomach was rolling now, but as soon as Dean opened the door and I saw all the other guys and what their getups were, I felt much better about mine.

“Go get ‘em, tiger.” Dean slapped my ass, nearly knocking me off my feet since I was already wobbly on them, “whoops, sorry.”

It only took me a few steps to get accustomed to the heels, but the stairs up to the stage were a challenge all their own. Thankfully I wasn’t the only one having difficulty, the guys clustered there laughing as they tried to climb them, some just taking their heels off altogether.

The lights on the stage were blinding. I could hear the audience cheering up a storm, but I couldn’t see most of them, which was calming.

We lined up and gave our best poses, laughing our asses off at the ridiculousness most of us felt. I saw Dean sneak up to the front of the stage and take my picture before slinking back off into the shadows.

The night consisted mostly of dancing and goofing off, the show lasting no longer than 45 minutes. Afterwards we posed for pictures, which definitely would be posted to Facebook ASAP.

Gilda let me keep to clothes, much to Dean’s enthusiasm, “Oh, we are going to have fun tonight, Cas!” What wasn’t fun, though, was that Dean made me wear my outfit home.

It was late when we returned to our apartment building, but it didn’t fail that we had to share the elevator with a few of our neighbors. They gave me a once over with huge eyes before hesitantly climbing into the car with Dean and I; I jabbed my heel into the top of his foot, letting him know just how much I loved him right now.

All hard feelings were lost once we back inside our apartment, though. I was on him in an instant, pushing him up against the door, taking advantage of my new height. He dragged me along with him to the bedroom, letting me know that for the first time in a good while, he was getting erect.

“Good, because I want you so fucking bad.” We collapsed onto the bed, his hands yanking down the stocking and literally ripping off my underwear, “Dean!” He shut me up with a heavy, intense kiss, yanking my stockings back up before tearing them right where he’d need access to, “Oh, you going to make me do this fully clothed, then?”

“Hell yeah. Heels and all.”

“Fine, but then I want something too.”

A few minutes later, I had him naked with his wrists tied to the headboard by my boa.

He was already a mess, begging me to just get on him already, which of course I didn’t do right away. I teased him with my mouth and hands first, sort of punishing him for the embarrassment I went through tonight, even though I really did have a great time.

Once it seemed like he was going to cry of all things, I crawled onto his lap and sunk down on to him, both of us already buzzing from the feeling since we haven’t done it in so long.

As I rocked atop him, my hands resting back by his knees with my head thrown back, the long hair of my wig swinging behind me, I could feel the netting of my stockings rubbing over me. It was an amazing feeling, added to by the tightness of the dress keeping it pressed flat to my stomach.

Dean and I were speechless, our bodies quickly approaching the edge like they were afraid that this was going to be the last time they would have each other, which it actually would be.

A small pause as he voiced that his arms ached and would like to be untied, so I obliged before we rolled right back into it.

The closer we got, the more I sped up, Dean palming me over the dress before sliding his hands up my sides and pulling me up to kiss him. After a moment, he moved his lips to my neck and really thrusted up into me, hitting right there again and again until I spilt over with a cry, my whole body throbbing around him as he finished inside me, pulsing hard and long from having not done this in a while.

It took me a few minutes after our lovemaking to realize that Dean’s difficulties breathing wasn’t just from a mind-blowing orgasm, but he actually couldn’t catch his breath. Propping myself up on my elbow beside him, I rubbed over his bare chest, “Shh, shh... relax... deep breaths, Dean.” He closed his eyes, his body shaking. For a moment I was afraid I’d have to call an ambulance, but thankfully he was able to get it back under control.

As we laid there, Dean slowly stripped me of my attire, planting kisses all over my neck and chest, “That was the best sex we’ve had in a long time.”

I nodded, humming contentedly while my fingers played in his hair.

If only I would have known that it would have been the last time we’d ever have sex, then I would have shown him a bit more joy over it all. Instead, I just kissed him goodnight and told him I loved him, like any other night, before falling into a deep and peaceful asleep.

 

* * *

 

Graduation was surreal, our college years gone just like that.

Sam showed up at our apartment as we were getting ready, hugs all around before we finished throwing on our dress clothes. Grabbing our caps and gowns, we headed down across the street to the park where the ceremony was taking place.

We introduced Sam to all our friends in the time we had before lining up, Sarah squealing when she saw him; the two of them had actually been talking since my birthday party, and they stayed fairly close throughout the duration of the evening.

Stories were shared from everyone, Dean and I being the subject of most of them. And then things turned to Dean’s health.

As you would imagine, that topic turned sour very quickly. At first it was just the rest of the group commenting on how thin Dean was, and how tired he seemed, me keeping quiet while I held his hand, knowing he didn’t want to talk about it. But when Sam began to tear up while talking about how much worse Dean looked since the last time he saw him, the older brother had had enough.

It felt like everyone around us went quiet and turned to look when Dean boomed, “I’m fine, jesus christ! Fucking drop it! All of you!” His eyes sent daggers to everyone before he shook his head and pulled my hand, “C’mon, Cas,” leading me over to the place where the rest of the graduates were starting to gather.

Nothing was said between us until we were told to get in our rows; I turned to him, smiling while I fixed his tie and straightened his cap, smoothing over the fabric of his gown, “We’re finally graduating, Dean. It doesn’t even feel like it’s been four years, does it?”

He shook his head, taking a hand to kiss my palm, “I love you so much, baby.” I could feel that there was more behind those words, things that were deeper than just love and affection, things that he would tell me at home later in the late hours of the night when neither of us could sleep.

“I love you too, more than anything.” I gave him a soft kiss to the lips, placing the hand he kissed right over his heart.

Our moment was interrupted then when I was ushered over to my proper location, giving Dean a wink before I went.

The start of the ceremony was nice, Pomp and Circumstance igniting something in my veins that made me antsy and excited, my eyes sparkling as we marched to our seats in time with the music.

It didn’t take long though, once we all sat and the speeches began, that we were starting to get bored with it all. Also didn’t help that the sun was beating down on us, our gowns making sure the heat stayed all cozy inside them.

And then it was finally happening.

“I am proud to present to you Clarkson University’s graduating class!”

We all jumped up then, cheering loud as we threw our caps into the air. Most of us were dancing some as we tried to keep time with the march back from our seats, but we were all too excited to be paying much attention.

Before I could even begin to look for Dean, he ran up behind me and grabbed around my waist and spun me around, pulling me close to give me a kiss, “We did it, Cas! We graduated!” All I could do was throw my arms over his shoulders as my emotions came over me, happily crying there against him.

Sam came up not much later, crying himself as he wrapped his brother in a tight hug, “I’m so proud of you, Dean. And you too, Cas,” of course he made sure to include me, his sincerity causing me to laugh and wipe at my eyes. “I, uh... I got something for you guys.”

Dean pulled me close again as Sam went to his pocket, pulling out a key; Dean frowned and immediately refused, “Thanks, Sam, but we don’t need another car, we’ve got Baby, and Cas has... whatever that hippie thing is.”

“No, Dean, it’s not for a car. It’s,” he paused, his eyes going kind of glassy, “It’s for a house. Our house. The one we grew up in.” Dean’s face relaxed then but still looked confused, his hand shaking some as he reached out and took the small silver object. Sam continued, “The family that had been living there moved out, and I... please don’t hate me, but I bought it for you. Well, for... for you and Cas.”

Now it was my turn to refuse, my shock clear upon my face, “Sam, no. No, that’s too expensive. Please, just sell it to another family, get your money back.” It boggled my mind, how Sam would have spent all that money on us just for a silly graduation present.

“Could you guys at least think about it? Please?” Those puppy dog eyes Sam gave us were potent, my heart melting some at the look.

I nodded, “Alright, but no promises. I honestly believe it’s way too much.” I glanced over at Dean who was still staring at the key in his hand, his face expressionless. “Well, all that aside, will you be joining us for a celebratory dinner tonight, Sam?”

We were all smiles as we headed back to our apartment, Dean having pocketed the key and returned to his earlier state of excitement. It was a wonderful evening for us, dinner with Sam pleasant, fresh almost, like both Dean and I knew that this was going to be the start of something new for us, or so we thought.

  

* * *

 

We decided to move into the house.

It was a few weeks after graduation now, our apartment packed and ready to go. We would throw all our boxes into a moving van, fly over to Lawrence, Kansas, and sleep on the house’s floor until our stuff got there.

We were scared shitless, honestly. Neither of us had been able to sleep the past few nights, and it seemed like we couldn’t sit still, wanting to just get up and go.

Finally moving day came. Dean and I were sitting on the floor eating our last lunch in this apartment, talking things over with huge grins. Dean was in his favorite sweater despite the summer heat, his body freezing cold now with nearly no muscle or fat on it to keep it insulated. It pained me to just look at him, but I always made sure to put on a smile and give him my most loving eyes. As we sat there, though, that’s when “it” began.

A look of disgust appeared on Dean’s face and he jumped up, hurrying into the kitchen to throw up most of what he just ate. The nausea wasn’t new though, it had been constant for a while now, as was his lack of appetite. Many trips to the bathroom over the past weeks ended up in dry heaving, hardly anything in his stomach for him to lose. If I didn’t force him to, be probably would never had ate at all. He still hadn’t gone to the doctor’s yet, saying he’d go once we moved and got settled, but that wouldn’t be the case.

Him being sick was different this time though. This time, there was blood.

We were used to blood when he went to the bathroom, that could be fixed with something simple we could pick up from the drugstore. But this, this was bad. This we knew wouldn’t pass in time, this we knew wouldn’t move on like the bloating and cramping he’d been experiencing the past few weeks did.

Dean had been popping flu pills and aspirin along with bottles of beer for a while now, thinking that it would all get better with those despite my warnings. Unknown to us, his self-medication had making his whole condition worse and worse. He had been sleeping a lot of the time, or if not sleeping, glazed over and out of it until he got up and moving again.

When Dean appeared in the doorway, slumped against the frame with his hands around his stomach and spots of blood in the corners of his mouth, I recalled a conversation Dean and I just had the previous night...

 

_I couldn’t take it anymore. As I watched his skeletal body practically fall out of the shower, too tired to keep itself upright, I rushed to his side, my voice cracking but firm, “Dean, something’s wrong. This isn’t the flu and you know it.”_

_“I’m fine, Cas, I just have to fight it until we can get to Lawrence--”_

_“Dean! Fucking look at yourself!” I spun him as gently as possible so he faced the mirror, his sunken eyes staring at his sickly reflection, “You don’t eat, unable to keep it down if you do, and you’re always sleeping,” a pause as I contemplated my next set of words, deciding to say them anyway, “I’m afraid you’re going to die.”_

 

It was a shame that I had been right.

 

* * *

 

Dean died on June 24th at 2:32 am from acute liver failure.

The doctor said something hadn’t been right with his kidney to begin with, that it wasn’t filtering properly or something, so all the alcohol he had drank over the years hasn’t being processed correctly, some of it staying in his body while silently killing him.

A liver transplant was considered, but they weren’t even able to keep him alive long enough to even get him into surgery.

Earlier back at our apartment, he collapsed just seconds after appearing in the doorway. I had rushed over, panic and dread blooming in me and making me sob. He was unconscious. I don’t know how the 911 operator was even able to understand me with the hysterics that I was in.

It seemed to take forever but the ambulance finally came. Dean was so light now that I had been able to carry him downstairs and meet them there; they snatched him from me and shoved us in the back of the vehicle before taking off, hooking god knows what up to him.

I kept petting his head as he laid there unresponsive but still breathing, telling him that he’d be okay, that everything would be okay, even though deep down I knew it wouldn’t. I called Sam and got out, “Dean is dying, and I you need...” before I completely lost it, the paramedic having to sort of translate for me; I told him he needed to take the next flight out, get here as soon as possible because I just knew Dean wasn’t going to make it much longer, even though the paramedic noted that she didn’t believe that, that there was still hope since we didn’t even know exactly what was wrong with him then.

They immediately started running tests on him when we got to the hospital, adding more fluids to his IV to try and get him awake. Hours later, he finally did, groaning and clutching at his stomach. Once the pain passed and he was able to talk, I explained what had happened, and how I called Sam. “Cassy... you didn’t have to do that, I’m... gonna be fine...” Sleep from the drugs took him then, the doctors wanting him to rest as much as possible after they knew he was able to communicate okay still. Part of me didn’t want him to sleep, afraid he wouldn’t wake back up, but I just kept quiet and sat there as I held his hand.

By the time the doctors figured out what’s wrong, it was too late. Dean had just fallen back asleep, his last words echoing around my head, “No matter what happens, blue eyes, you were the love of my life and... and I couldn’t have asked... for anything better...” His eyes closed as he fell asleep once more, but part of me knew that this time he wouldn’t be waking up again. I broke down right there at his bedside, not even hearing Sam come in, but I leaned into his touch when he sat next to me and put an arm around my shoulder. I could feel him crying too, his hand shaking as he put it over Dean and I’s, squeezing tight.

They had just come in to tell us that OR was ready when Dean’s heart monitor rang out with an alert, informing us that his heart beat was becoming erratic and dropping in frequency. Sam and I were up instantly, trying to get him awake even though we knew it was useless. I was screaming his name, telling him to wake up until my throat was sore.

Sam gave up when they started performing CPR, putting his hands in his hair as he started to pace at the end of the bed, watching helplessly with red eyes and a broken expression. I only let go of Dean’s hand when they used the defibrillator, but grabbed on again as soon as possible. They knew I wouldn’t budge if they tried to move me, especially when he took a final ragged breath before flatlining.

I could feel him squeeze my hand one last time before it all ended, and I changed my words from “please wake up” to “I love you” just in case he could somehow still hear me. Ever so slowly the nurses and doctors began to back off of him, only a few remaining when they called his time of death.

They left Sam and I then, giving us their most sincere apologies before informing us that someone would be available to talk to when we were ready.

We clung for him for I don’t know how long. Sam came over and took his other hand, kneeling beside the bed before putting it to his forehead and breaking into a fresh round of sobs. I kept telling Dean how much I loved him, cradling his head to my chest, those handful of words seemingly the only ones I knew.

Eventually Sam stood and came over to me, rubbing my back some before saying he was going to go out and talk to whoever it was that was out there. I don’t know how long he was gone.

My crying slowly tapered off to numbness, static filling my brain. I was a zombie when Sam came back in, and he helped me stand and step away as they covered Dean with a sheet.

He led me into the hallway next as they took him away from me, a lifeless body of the man who would forever hold my heart.

I stayed with Sam in his hotel room that night, since Dean and I’s stuff was all packed up. I sat at the table and stared out the window until Sam told me to come get in bed beside him, that he didn’t care how awkward it was because god damn it, we both just lost the most important person in our lives and we both knew we needed the comfort.

Most people would be waking up when we fell asleep, somewhat curled around each other. Neither of us slept long though, me waking up crying just a few hours later, which in turn woke him and prompted a crying fest fueled by disbelief and confusion. Dean had been alive and breathing, talking, loving, just hours ago, and now he was gone. It felt like my body was ripped to shreds, and I’m sure Sam felt the same since he was now the only living member of his immediate family.

Part of me still feels somewhat responsible for Dean’s death. Sam told me in the coming days as we sorted through Dean’s things and made funeral arrangements that after their father had died when Dean was a teenager, he had turned to heavy drinking for years before he Sam talked him into going to college.

Dean had never told me any of that, and a fresh round of pain erupted through me, but I kept my mouth shut about the topic.

The funeral was hell, so much so that that night, after Dean was buried in the ground next to his parents with a headstone over his corpse, I had a screaming fit to a God I didn’t really believe in anymore, asking him what I did that made him think I deserved to have the love of my life taken away from me.

Of course I didn’t hear anything back from him about the matter.

The city we lived in was tainted now, fuck, the whole state was, so I acted on selfish impulse and moved in with Sam clear across the country for a few years, not evening thinking about how I would be leaving Dean.

Sarah and Sam had been keeping in touch since graduation, and she had moved out to be with him once she graduated herself. Some years later when they got married and moved to Lawrence together, back to Sam’s old house, did I finally go back to Dean.

I moved as close to him as I could without entering the state, refusing to live on the same soil that his body was rotting in. It took me a while to finally go and see him again, but when I did, I took him a present; it was a little angel statue that went by the name of Cassiel.

 

 

“Cassiel...is the angel of solitude and tears, and is said to preside over the deaths of kings.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> You can find a masterpost of all but one of the pieces of art on [ kuwlshadow's LJ ](kuwlshadow.livejournal.com), and on [ my tumblr ](http://castielstum.tumblr.com/post/133592583183/title-college-years-author-me-missbloom-artist).


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